


Eight Years

by otto_tis_eratai



Category: The X-Files, The X-Files: I Want To Believe (2008)
Genre: Angst, Break Up, Episode: s10e03 Mulder & Scully Meet the Were-Monster, Episode: s10e05 Babylon, F/M, Family, Missing Scene, Post-Episode: s10e04 Home Again, Post-Episode: s10e06 My Struggle II, Post-I Want to Believe, Season/Series 10, The X-Files Revival
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-25
Updated: 2016-11-26
Packaged: 2018-08-24 15:35:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 24,925
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8377636
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/otto_tis_eratai/pseuds/otto_tis_eratai
Summary: A story in three parts about the years from 2008 to 2016. How Mulder and Scully broke up and how they got back together.The first part bridges the gap between IWTB and season 10. The second part is set during the revival. The third part is what I'd like to see afterwards.





	1. Part I

**Author's Note:**

> Hi everyone, I got this idea for a new story and decided to write it down. It's set in the same universe at my other TXF story (Some Nights) but it's not necessary to have read that as well.  
> This first part starts right at the end of IWTB. I'm sorry if the mythology doesn't make much sense, but that's not why I'm writing!  
> Rated M for (mild and sporadic) sex scenes.  
> Well, enjoy and let me know :)

**Part I**

 

Mulder promised her a vacation, just the two of them, and he kept his word. He takes Scully one full week in a luxurious five star hotel at the Bahamas, ocean view, a king size bed, as far away from the darkness as they could get. They are on a tropical paradise, but they barely leave their room.

The days go by among hot sex, mind blowing orgasms, her body aching with the most delicious kind of soreness.

She’s on all fours and he pounds into her, hard, fast, her face hidden in the pillows to muffle her moans, as she feels her orgasm building. It’s her third that day, and it’s not even lunchtime yet. He wraps an arm around her waist to pull her up against his chest, and her head falls on his shoulder, his hot breath against her ear sending shivers down her spine.

“Oh God, just like that,” she moans, when one of his hands slides down her body to rub her clit while the other grabs her breast and pinches her hard nipple.

“I love you Scully, I love you so much,” he breathes, his cock thrusting furiously in and out of her.

“Yes, yes,” she whimpers incoherently, again and again. A couple more thrusts and her body goes rigid in his arms, her walls clenching around him and milking his own orgasm too.

Just a couple of hours later, they are fucking again in the bathtub. She moves on him, his cock sliding in and out of her wet pussy, perfectly hitting her g-spot at every stroke, the water splashing out of the tub and flooding the surroundings. He pants, starting at her tits bouncing in front of him in a mesmerizing rhythm, and she yelps as he softly bites on her swollen nipple. She comes, once with his mouth sucking on her breasts, and then a second time when his fingers swipe across her clit.

Later on that afternoon her internal walls are way too sore to handle another penetration, so he goes down on her and fucks her with his tongue instead. Then it’s her turn to reciprocate the favour, and she kneels between his spread legs, sucking his soul out of his cock while her hands work on his heavy balls. He comes unexpectedly with a feral grunt when she sneaks her hand lower and softly circles his most secret opening.

And that is just day one.

By the end of the vacation, Scully is drunk with endorphins, and thinks that things are going to be okay. She thinks that she hasn’t been this happy in a long time, and that they will solve together every problem that may come between them, because they love each other so much that her chest hurts if she thinks about it.

**

She comes home from work every day in the evening  and they have dinner together. They talk. Mulder asks her about her day, about her patients, about her colleagues. She asks him about his day, what he read, if he found more newspaper articles to cut and pin to the wall of his office. They watch TV and exchange comments on the news. Senator Barack Obama has just clinched the Democratic nomination for the upcoming election, against the Republican John McCain.

“Can you believe it, Mulder? By the end of the year we could have our first black President,” Scully says.

Mulder shrugs. “Let’s see how he handles the end of our civilisation.”

She knows he’s referring to the Mayan prophecy, but doesn’t want to go into it just now. They switch channel and watch The Da Vinci Code. She falls asleep with her head on his lap and his hands in her hair before the end of the movie.

In November, she takes him to the polls to cast their vote.

That night she wants to stay up to watch history being made, and this time, it’s Mulder who falls asleep on her lap.

**

He hears the roar of her car approaching, and he immediately goes to the kitchen to wait for her. She had an important surgery today.

He smiles brightly as she opens the door.

“So? How did it go?” he asks eagerly.

She’s pale as a sheet with dark circles under her eyes, but she’s smiling too. “It was a success… everything went well,” she replies, “but I spent the last 7 hours standing in the OR, and I’m exhausted, I just want to lay down.”

He follows her upstairs to their bedroom.

She sighs loudly as she lets her body collapse on the bed, finally feeling all her muscles relax, while he helps her get her feet on the bed too. Then, he sits on the edge of it and removes her shoes and socks.

“Oh yes, just like that,” she whispers as he starts rubbing her feet, the grin on his face growing wider hearing the almost erotic sounds she emits.

She loves that she doesn’t have to say anything, he knows exactly what she needs. Among a series of moaned ‘oh god’ and ‘right there’ that have him in giggles, she tells him the details of the operation while his hands work on her sore heels, arches and toes.

When he’s done, he places a feather-like kiss beneath her toes and crawls up her body until they’re face to face, cradling her in his arms.

“That was one of your best performances,” she comments.

“What if I told you I ordered a pizza and it should be here any moment now?” he says, wiggling his eyebrows.

She grins. “I love you.”

**

Their routine goes on until one day she comes home, cooks something, but he says he’s not hungry at the moment, he will eat later. She asks if he’s not feeling well, but he says he’s just busy with something. She shrugs and closes his door.

She eats alone, watching the latest developments on the swine flu, thinking it’s just once, it can happen that people are not hungry. That night, she’s in bed reading a book when he joins her, and they make love. He apologises to her for having missed their dinner, and tells her that the chicken she cooked was delicious.

He spoons against her still naked body, his fingers drawing slow, relaxing circles on her belly. He knows how much she loves that. As a matter of fact, she closes her eyes, purring softly. Soon they fall asleep.

**

Overall, things are good between them. Her job keeps her away from home almost all day, five days a week with some extra weekend shifts, but they make the best of the time they do share. He surprises her one day with the Nintendo Wii, and they spend hours during the weekend playing various virtual sports. She accidentally hits him with the remote controller while they play tennis, making his nose bleed. They laugh together, then she fucks him on the couch, making him come so hard that his nose bleeds again.

**

As the seasons go by, as the short cold days of winter turn into long hot summer days, Mulder spends more and more time in his room, surfing the Internet, cutting out newspaper articles. It happens again, and then again, and then again, that he doesn’t join her for dinner. Scully thinks of William while she eats alone. She wonders what his favourite food his, and hopes his adoptive mother cooks it for him from time to time.

Soon it happens almost regularly that she has dinner alone. Those times in which they do have dinner together, he still asks her about her day, and then they make love afterwards. She thinks it’s just a phase. He’s obsessively into the WikiLeaks scandal these days, he follows everything that Julian Assange says or does, every interview, every small development.

She worries for him, a little, but when she tells him, he dismisses her immediately, saying it’s just a topic he’s very interested in.

“Why don’t we watch a move tonight? There’s Notting Hill on TV at 9,” he proposes to prove his words.

She cracks a smile. “And we order a pizza?”

“Pepperoni and mushrooms.”

She closes the distance between them and kisses his lips, before enveloping him in his arms. Pizza and movie nights were one of their favourite activities, and they don’t do that enough lately.

Afterwards, in bed, he lets her ride his face, and she comes twice, loudly, his mouth relentless on her clit.  

**

However, even after the scandal seems to be over, he still has days in which he says he’s busy and won’t have dinner with her, nor propose any other kind of activity to make up for his absence.

She starts occupying her evenings taking up extra work, or watching TV series. Her favourite ones are How I Met Your Mother and The Big Bang Theory, at least she laughs a little. Then she watches Grey’s Anatomy, because her colleagues at work talk about it. There’s an episode in which one of the doctors has the chance to meet again her daughter whom she had given up for adoption years earlier, for her good, but the little girl has now no interest in meeting her birth mother.

Scully thinks of William. He turns ten in a couple of months. His childhood is almost over already, and she’s lost every single moment of it. She never witnessed his first steps, his first words, she never potty trained him, she never taught him how to use a spoon. She never watched him ride a bike, she never met his friends, never helped him with his homework. She wonders what he likes. Is he a little math genius, like she was, or is he the talented boy in art class? Or is he the sporty type, the one who always gets picked first when it’s time to make the two teams to play something? When he’s alone, does he play videogames, or does he prefer reading a book?

Whatever he likes, whoever he has become, she hopes he’s healthy and happy and loved, and that his adoptive parents wake up every day feeling blessed for having him as a son.

**

Day after day, her conversations with Mulder get more and more shallow, when they happen. When he asks about her day, he doesn’t listen with the same interest. He looks at her, and nods. When she asks him about his day, he shrugs and says he did nothing particular, the usual stuff. She wonders if he thinks of William too sometimes.

She knocks to his door one evening, after work.

“Have you heard?” she asks, “Bin Laden is dead.”

He nods, without even turning to look at her. “Yes, I’ve heard.”

That’s the only interaction they have that day. She’s already asleep when he gets in bed.

She spends the following day worrying for her relationship, but when she gets home that evening he’s waiting for her, and they have sex on the kitchen table. She’s still wearing her sweater. Her hips bucks against him with each push into her.

“Harder. Faster,” she moans, over and over again.

He complies, thrusting in and out of her as harshly as he can, his hand groping her clothed breast. Just a minute later, her eyes squeeze shut and a feral wail leaves her mouth. She’s coming so hard she sees stars behind her eyelids, as the strength of her clenching muscles push him over the edge too.

She thinks the situation can’t be so bad if sex is still so good.  

**

One Sunday she joins Facebook, since it has become popular among her colleagues. She adds them, and then she adds her brothers, her sister-in-law, and her oldest nephew. She also looks for old friends from high school, college, and med school. She can’t help grinning when she finds Walter Skinner and John Doggett. There was a time in her life in which they were the closest thing to a friend she had. She adds them both, then she types ‘Monica Reyes’ on the search bar, without any luck.

The following evening, Mulder is in his room, and Scully eats her cheeseburger and salad while chatting on Facebook with Doggett. He lives in San Francisco now. She thinks it’s funny, because back when they worked together they never really talked, and now this was turning out to be the most interesting conversation she’s had in a while. They talk of their jobs, his new partner, her new colleagues. They talk about Mulder, and Skinner, and Monica. Doggett says he hasn’t heard from her in years, and she doesn’t ask for further details. They have a conversation that goes both ways, that goes beyond monosyllabic words, unlike what she’s having with Mulder lately, and that’s what makes it good.

“I joined Facebook yesterday,” she tells Mulder later on, in bed, “you should too. It’s fun.”

“That shit? No thanks. They spy on you through that.”

For some reason, his reply annoys her more than usual. He’s so focused on himself that he doesn’t care about anything that might interest her. She wanted to tell him about her conversation with Doggett, about Skinner’s terrible choice of profile pictures, about the games one can play. She wanted them to have one normal thing to talk about, but of course he had to find darkness in it too. Now she just wants to sleep.

She rolls onto her side and switches off the light. After a couple of seconds, she feels him shift closer to her, and put a hand on her hip. His hardening erection presses against her buttocks.

“I’m not in the mood,” she states.

He mutters something she can’t understand, and rolls on his side too.

**

Before she realises it, their sex life deteriorates too. They go from making love multiple times a week, to once a week, to once or twice a month. They don’t even undress each other anymore, all they do is lower their pants and underwear to make the act possible.

She remembers the long foreplay sessions they used to keep each other busy with on lazy Sunday afternoons. She remembers how he would get hard immediately, just with a glance at her naked body. She remembers the way her pussy tingled when he kissed her neck, or stroked her sides up and down, or just looked at her as if she was the sexiest woman alive.

Now their sex is not an act of love and passion anymore, it’s just a mere physical relief, or at least that’s what it feels like to her. They fuck silently, the breathy moans and pants that used to fill their bedroom are nothing but a memory. Gradually, the times where she doesn’t have an orgasm become more frequent than the ones when she does.

“You didn’t finish,” he tells her one time, after he comes.

_As if it’s the first time that happened._

“Uhm… no, I didn’t… but it’s okay,” she replies.

Before she can say anything else, he reaches between her legs and slides two fingers inside her pussy. She gasps in surprise when his pads immediately find her g-spot, and a soft moan escapes her lips. However, the mood is soon broken when she realises his movements are mechanical, and his gaze is lost somewhere in the void, as if his mind wansn’t there at all, as if he was just fulfilling his duty.

She wants to cry. Making her feel good was never an obligation to him before.

She gently puts an hand over his to stop him, and tells him she’s tired and a little stressed from work, so it’s not going to happen. He nods, kissing her goodnight on her cheek, and he turns on the other side, while she lets a few tears stream silently down her face.

The following times in which she feels she’s not going to come during sex, she fakes it, just to make sure she never has to go through such a humiliating situation anymore.

Slowly, they stop having sex altogether.

**

She starts masturbating, while taking hot baths after work. She used to masturbate fairly regularly when she was single, but she’s lost that habit since she and Mulder got together. He would always satisfy her needs. Now, she gradually starts touching her breasts, pinching her nipples, before dipping her hand between her thighs. In a few minutes, she’s wetter than she’s been in months. She goes slowly, loving herself, touching all the spots that she knows drive her insane. She comes hard with two fingers inside her pussy and the other hand on her clit. She feels good, and a little guilty at the same time, because the man in her brain wasn’t Mulder, but a random guy she’s seen on TV.

**

With the beginning of 2012, what is supposed to be the last year for the human civilisation, Mulder slides more and more into apathy as weeks go by. She can count on her fingers the times they have dinner together in a month. He loses appetite, he stops shaving, he comes to bed later and later or sometimes he doesn’t come to bed at all. One weekend they have lunch together, and he tells her he’s found this website with people organising to survive the apocalypse. That’s the only thing he talks about, the end of the world and conspiracy theories. At this point, she’d almost rather watch The Big Bang Theory instead.

**

“It’s William’s birthday,” Mulder tells her as he comes to bed unusually early. It’s a cloudy spring night, the raindrops fall against their bedroom window.

She lifts her eyes off the book she’s reading to look at him. She wants to ask why he’s in bed so early, it’s not even midnight yet, but all she can do is smile.  

“Yes… He’s eleven,” she replies.

Mulder lays down and tucks his arms under his head. “Do you think he’s going to have a big party? Eleven is an important age.”

They talk for a while about their son, a bittersweet conversation that ends up reminding both of them why they never talk about him. It’s incredibly sad that the only memories they have of their eleven-year-old son are along the lines of ‘that time you changed his diaper and he peed on you’, but at the same time talking about him from time to time helps them relieve the huge grief they carry inside. It’s just good to know, for both of them, that the other shares their pain.

Albeit sad, they just shared a brief moment on intimacy, something that hasn’t happened in far too long. Feeling confident, she shifts closer to him and kisses his lips. He kisses her back at first, but stops abruptly as her hand slides down his body to palm his flaccid cock. His whole body stiffens.

“Scully, stop,” he says firmly, and she removes her hand, searching in his eyes for an explanation on why  they haven’t had sex in months and now he’s rejecting her.

“I’m sorry,” is all he says.

She silently cries herself to sleep. She doesn’t know whether he hears her and doesn’t want to deal with it, or whether he just can’t sleep, but soon he gets up and walks out of the room. Then she hears the door of his office open and close with a clicking sound.

For the first time, she wonders where things went wrong. Well, at least the world is going to be over soon.

**

The green leaves in the trees surrounding their house gradually turn into a beautiful foliage that is red and brown and yellow, and then they fall to the ground. Mulder rarely sleeps, eats just the minimum amount to survive, only talks about the impending apocalypse. They haven’t had sex for 11 months, she’s been counting. After her failed attempt in May, they tried once again, in August, he fucked her from behind. It used to be one of their favourite positions, it made her feel sexy and wanton and overall very good. That night instead, she picked it so that they could avoid looking at each other’s face. Not that it mattered, since he lost his erection after less than a minute.

She masturbates regularly though, she even bought a couple of new toys for her pleasure. If he saw them, he never said anything.

**

A Saturday, an unusually warm November afternoon, he emerges from his room and finds her curled up on the couch with her laptop. His eyes are red with blood and there’re big black circles underneath. He hasn’t gone to bed last night.

“I’m… going out,” he announces.

“What? Where?”

She’s taken aback by his statement, because she honestly can’t remember the last time he’s left the house.

“I’m going to buy something. You’ll see.”

With that, he leaves.

He’s back a couple of hours later with two huge black backpacks.

“Mulder, what are those?” she asks.

“The 21st of December is close Scully, less than a month away. We need to pack our things and leave. With the guys on the website, we identified the spots where the colonisation begins…”

He keeps on talking, but she stops listening. She is terribly worried for him. She stands up and walks towards him, to wrap her arms around him. She immediately notices he’s lost some weight since the last time she hugged him, and that says a lot about how long it’s been.

He remains motionless in her arms, sighing loudly.

“Scully, you’re not taking this seriously,” he says.

Since he’s not hugging her back, she takes a step back too.

“I think you’re taking this way too seriously, Mulder,” she whispers, purposefully avoiding eye contact.

“Too seriously? Too seriously, you say?” he snaps, “it’s the end of our fucking civilisation Scully, it’s the end of the world as we know it!...”

Once again he rumbles on, barking angrily at her, and she disconnects herself. He’s too far gone to care about anything she might have to say. When he’s done, he walks to his office and slams the door loudly behind him.

**

They fight about this a lot. He says they have to leave, he figured out exactly what is going to happen, and he has no intention of going down without a fight. For the first time, he tells her he sent his discoveries to all newspapers, magazines, but he was never published except for a couple of blogs on the topic.

“They didn’t believe me, but I don’t give a shit Scully. This is it, this is the truth, we have to go,” he insists, his voice firm and loud.

She can only put a hand above her eyes in desperation. She knows there is no way she can make him change his mind, and she can’t let him go alone. She sighs, silently, resigned.

“Okay. Where is this place exactly?”

He looks down for a brief moment, as if he needs to collect his thoughts. When he looks up again, a strange light lingers in his eyes.

“It’s where you gave birth to William,” he replies eventually. Then he goes on explaining how he found out the colonisation starts there, but she isn’t listening anymore. She feels sick at the mere thought that she has to step foot in that abandoned house again, reliving the moment that has been, at the same time, the scariest, happiest, and saddest of her life.

In that moment, she thinks she hates Mulder a little, and she wishes she were strong enough to tell him to go chase his truth by himself.

She isn’t, and she dislikes herself for it. She thinks she could never forgive herself if something happens to him because she didn’t go with him. She believes he’s not used to driving long hours anymore.

She tells him she’ll go with him.

That night, she cries herself to sleep, but as usual, he’s not there to hear her.

**

They leave on the 19th of December. They drive all night and all day, in silence, the landscape changing right before their eyes, the radio playing Christmas songs from time to time. Mulder parks the car exactly where Monica parked it years earlier. Scully remembers that day so well she has a hard time believing eleven years have passed.

_How could you take me here, Mulder, how could you?_

There’re a few other people there already, and Mulder immediately joins them, leaving Scully alone in the car, her arms crossed to her chest.

Rage fills her so abruptly that she forgets how much she loves him. He gives zero fucks about her right now. She’s not an alien, so she’s not worthy of his attention.

She takes the deepest breath, and she thinks of William. Just for a moment, she lets herself recall the joy she felt when she first held him in her arms, watching all the people around disappear, thinking her little family would have a bright future together, filled with love.

She doesn’t know what hurts more, the fact that their future never came to be, or the fact that Mulder seems completely oblivious to her pain. Or the fact that she’s the only one in pain, as if her son wasn’t his too.

Sitting in her car, she wonders how William’s doing, hoping that if he’s to die soon, like everyone else, it is a quick and painless death. A couple of minutes later, she steps out of the car. 

**

They drive their way back to Virginia in the same way they drove the first time. In complete silence. This time, Scully drives, and Mulder spends his time between falling asleep against the window and staring at the landscape.

Nothing happened. They waited the whole day and the whole night, and nothing happened, nor there, nor anywhere else in the world.

He can’t believe nothing happened, she somehow already knew. She spent the night sleeping, in the same bed she lay while she gave birth to her son, and when Mulder came in the morning after and woke her up, all she could do was ask him “Can we go home now?”.

She feels sorry for him, because once again years of research have taken him nowhere, but she feels sorry for herself too, because once again she let him take over her life and drag her into his darkness.

As they finally cross the ‘Welcome to Virginia’ sign, her mind is screaming this isn’t the life she wants for herself anymore.

**

Mulder spends a couple of days in bed, drifting in and out of sleep, only getting up to go to the bathroom. He’s lethargic. She becomes his doctor, she takes his temperature, checks his blood pressure, brings him food, helps him bathe. She cries when she takes a shower herself, wondering if things could possibly sink deeper than this.  

“My mum invited us over for lunch tomorrow. Are you coming?” she asks him on Christmas Eve.

He shakes his head. “You go. Have fun.”

She wants to cry and scream and punch him because all he does is lying there, as if it could possibly make things better, and she hates herself for this. She wishes she could talk to him, like the old times, she wishes she could cradle him in her arms, help him, love him.

More than anything, she wishes she wanted to do any of this, but she’s been lacking strength lately. Sometimes she finds herself thinking that that man in their bed is not the same man she fell in love with almost 20 years ago, and some other times that thought makes her laugh. Of course he’s the same man. It’s her the one who’s different.

“Alright,” she whispers.

**

She diagnoses him with endogenous depression, and thinks she should have realised this earlier. He’s probably had it for years, the missed colonisation just aggravated the situation, didn’t create it in the first place. Insomnia, lack of appetite, disinterest in sexual activities, mood swings, all are symptoms of this disease. She prescribes him some pills.

Now she hates herself for being harsh on him, she wonders if she could have done something more, she tells herself that she loves him, and it is nothing but the truth.

No matter how hard she tries, the sense of  unhappiness won’t leave her be.

With the new year, she has drinks with her colleagues one evening. They’re fun people, a little younger than her, but definitely good company. She likes herself when she’s with them, more than she likes herself when she’s at home with Mulder. She feels younger, full of ideas that she can share with people who understand them and appreciate them.

A couple of hours later, she is sitting in her car, in front of her house, and she thinks that she doesn’t like her life anymore. She’s not happy. She’s lonely. There’s only darkness in that house. Her relationship is dead.

She says it out loud, “my relationship is dead.”

She hides her face in her hands and cries, loudly, her body shaken by sobs and sighs.

**

Mulder gets better with treatment, less lethargic. A part of her wishes they could face their problems now. However, he soon begins again to spend his hours in front of his laptop, shut in his room, never really talking to her about anything that might be crossing his mind.

One night she’s in bed alone with her laptop, she’s rarely been so miserable before, she had one too many glass of wine, and she does something she never thought she would do. She opens Google and types ‘find adopted child’. Back in 2002, she specifically asked for a closed adoption, for obvious reasons, and she knows that the adoption records are very hard to unseal. Hard, but theoretically not impossible.

However, the search is like a cold shower, much more than she imagined. First, it is only allowed to look for adult kids, which means she has to wait 7 more years before she can even begin to look for William. And even after that, it’s a long, extenuating, expensive procedure, that might even require a court order. Otherwise, she discovers there’re some social networks created with the specific purpose of reuniting biological parents and children, but that’s even a longer shot, as it requires that both parties are actively seeking each other at the same time, and using the same website. She doesn’t know if, or when, William will ever want to look for her.

Left with nothing but hopelessness, she closes her laptop and cries, wishing Mulder was there with her, to hold her, comfort her, share her pain, like he used to do. But no, he’s downstairs, dealing with his bullshit as usual. _And he drove you, without batting an eye, where William was born._

She’s angry, and sad, and she starts toying with the idea that she can truly, concretely change things, that she can leave him and this house.

_Fuck you Mulder_ , she thinks for a fraction of second, but she immediately regrets it.

When she allows her rationality to kick in, she knows he’s sick and he needs her. He needs her to check on him.

She just doesn’t know how long she’ll be able to live like this.

**

She starts seeing apartments after work, and she hates herself for it, but at home she’s so miserable that she can’t stand it anymore. The darkness drains her, has been draining her for a long time now.

Mulder is much better now, but he still doesn’t acknowledge her and her needs, not just the sexual ones, but the emotional ones. She feels lonely. She feels abandoned. They live under the same roof, but there’s the distance of an ocean between them.

She hates herself so much for her selfishness, and at the same time, she’s tired of hating herself.

She visits a very nice place, quite close to the hospital, it reminds her of the apartment she used to have while working for the FBI, and the rent is not that high. She says she’ll think about it.

When she goes home that night, Mulder is in his room, and tells her he’s not hungry. She’s been there before.

She knows treatment takes a while, the symptoms won’t just disappear in a couple of weeks, but she silently cries herself to sleep almost every night now. She owes happiness to herself. And she hates herself for it.

The following day, she phones the agency, and tells them she’ll move in in a couple of weeks.

**

The day she finally bring herself to talk to him about her decision is a Saturday, and they’re having lunch together, in silence. He has nothing to tell her, she has nothing to tell him. The only sound in the room is the TV announcing that Benedict XVI is the first Pope to resign in more than 600 years.

She suddenly drops her fork on the table. “I can’t do this anymore Mulder.”

“What, be the head of the Catholic Church?” he jokes, but then he sees her eyes, and those aren’t joking. He doesn’t understand what she means at first, but then she explains it, she explains how miserable she is, how lonely she’s been feeling for months, years, and she tells him she has found a place close to the hospital.

The air between them is thick with shattered promises.

“Are you… are you breaking up with me?” he asks, his voice quivery, his eyes glistening with tears. Never in his life has he been so afraid of the truth.

“I’m sorry, Mulder,” is all she says.

He’s startled, and a silent tear streams down his cheek. He hopes this is all a nightmare, from which he’s going to wake up soon, but he knows it isn’t.

“Scully… no… d-don’t…” he stutters, searching for a sign in her eyes that this is temporary.

He finds none.  

Suddenly he has a huge weigh pressing on his chest that prevents him from breathing. He can’t cry, he can’t scream, he can’t say anything.

The room spins all around him, her mouth is moving, she’s saying something, he doesn’t get it. He gets up from the chair and walks to his office, shutting the door behind him. His food rests unfinished in his plate.

She watches him aghast, the consequences of what she’s said sinking down on her. It’s over. They’re not together anymore. She’s leaving.

A part of her wishes he’d at least fought back, told her that she is being an idiot and that her choice to leave is a shitty one.

He didn’t. Not one word came out of his mouth.

The TV goes on talking.

As in a trance, her head floating above her body, she walks to their bedroom, now his, and she sits on the bed, staring at the void in front of her. Memories of twenty years of their life together play like a movie in front of her glassy eyes.

**

Later that afternoon, the sunset light is peeking through the bedroom windows. There’s a suitcase open on the floor, all the drawers are open too, and her clothes are all over the bed. She told the landlord of the new apartment that she’ll be there the next morning, and now she has twenty years’ worth of things to pack. She had no idea how many things she owned, and she has no idea where to start.

Suddenly there’s a knock on the door, interrupting her stream of thoughts. Mulder is leaning on the jamb, his eyes puffy, his cheeks visibly damp. He’s been crying.

There are so many things she wants to tell him, but none leaves her mouth. He speaks first.

“I’ll help you pack,” he says, nodding at the bed covered with clothes. His voice is filled with misery and acceptance.

Scully wants to weep too, and she almost does when he approaches her and takes her hands in his.

“Mulder, I-,” she starts, but he silences her with his forefinger on her lips. He’s so close now, and he has that look in his eyes, and she thinks he’s going to kiss her. He strokes her cheek before cupping it softly.

“Please don’t make this harder,” she whispers in one breath.

He still doesn’t speak, but squeezes his eyes and fresh tears start spilling out.

“I’m letting you go, Scully,” he murmurs, his voice broken and choked. “You’re… you’re the only woman I ever truly loved, and the best friend I could have ever asked for, and…”

He’s sobbing now, loudly, repeatedly, uncontrollably, trying his best to keep talking through it all. “…and the only, the only thing I want is… it’s you, to be happy, Scully… and, and if you’re not happy here, with me, then…”

She’s crying too now, shaking her head because she knows she’ll be teared apart once he’s done speaking.

“…I’m letting you go because I wish… I wish I could tell you that I want to make love to you one last time… but it would be a lie… I can’t give you what you want, Scully, what you need… all I can do is let you go, let you be happy.”

His face is red, wet, he sniffles and crashes his head on her shoulder. She never had a sword through her heart, but she guesses that’s what it feels like. She wraps her arms around him, their sorrow ripping through their bodies, and they shake in each other’s embrace, knowing this time there’s no way back.

“I’m sorry, Scully,” he continues, his cheek damp against her neck, “I’m so sorry… for all the pain I caused you, in twenty years… I ruined your life…”

His last sentence is a punch in her stomach, and she grabs his shoulder, forcing him to look at her.

“Don’t you dare say that,” she weeps as firmly as possible, swallowing the lump in her throat, but her voice is unsteady and faint, her mouth dry, “don’t you dare think that, Mulder…”

Her lips and chin quiver, and right when she is starting to think she has no more tears to cry, here they come, rolling down her burning cheeks.

“…we were happy together… you made me so happy, Mulder, so happy.”

Her voice abandons her completely in the end, and she weeps, and he hugs her again when he understands she can’t speak anymore. Their knees wobble and they kneel down on the floor, wrapped in each other’s arms, crying it all out, years of love and frustration and loss and more love.

But they both know now that love is not enough anymore, and neither is guilt.

They cry together until there are no more tears.

Afterwards, they pack her things in silence.

When she goes to bed that night, he finds him already there.

“I’ll take the couch,” she says, nodding at the door.

“No!” he says, sitting up, motioning as if he was going to come after her if she hadn’t stopped, “Stay… let me hold you.”

She accepts, sighing, diverting her gaze not to see the tears pooling up in his eyes again.

He spoons her, her back against his wide chest, his hand immobile on her stomach. She remembers when cuddling with him was one of her favourite things in the whole universe.

“We can…” he starts tentatively, “we can give it a try… at sex… if you want to.”

She hates when he makes sex sound like a favour he’s doing to her.

“Good night Mulder.”

After they fall asleep, they soon roll away from each other, like a confirmation that there’s nothing else left to do.

**

Mulder helps her load her car, the morning after. He also offers to come with her to her new place, to help carry the heaviest things, but she assures him she can do it herself.

“Will you be okay?” she asks. 

He nods. He wants to tell her that he loves her, he’s always loved her, he’ll always love her, but doesn’t want to start crying all over again. He will cry, later on, once he’s alone in their house, the one they bought together because they used to love each other and think nothing could possibly come between them, ever.

“I’ll create a Facebook account and add you,” he says instead.

He waves at her while she drives away, and she keeps her eyes fixed on him on the rear-view mirror until he’s no longer in sight.

For the first time in nineteen years, Dana Scully is by herself. She never believed that thing people say, that a couple is made of two ‘halves’. It’s a concept she doesn’t like. Mulder isn’t her half, and she isn’t his. They’re two wholes fitting together.

But damn if it doesn’t feel like she’s left behind a piece of her soul.

**

She calls him a lot during the first weeks, to check on him, to ask how he’s feeling and whether he’s taking his medicines. She gives him the name of a new doctor, an actual psychiatrist, to renew the prescription.

Then, she calls him less and less.

He only calls her first on William’s birthday, but she’s at work, or somewhere, and she doesn’t answer. He wants to call her so many other times, but he reminds himself that she’s happier now, without him. The least he can do is try to find happiness again himself. A part of him keeps hoping that she will get back to him eventually.

She visits him on his birthday, and is pleased to see he’s doing well, and the house is not a mess. It’s quite clean, in fact, and he looks like he’s been exercising.

They talk for a while, he makes her some tea.

“I miss you,” he says out of the blue.

Her lips curl in a sad smile. “I miss you too.”

“Not enough to come back, though, right?”

She doesn’t reply.

When she leaves, they both know their beautiful relationship is over for good.

The following years, she only calls him for his birthday and for Christmas, and on other very sporadic occasions.

He creates a Facebook profile, with a false name, and chooses not to add her.


	2. Part II

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you very much to everyone who read this :) the second part is basically a series of missing scenes from the revival... some scenes that might have happened but we didn't see.  
> Enjoy :)

**Part II**

 

 

Scully accepts to work with him again, when Skinner calls, and her hearts beats just a little faster as she watches Mulder step out of a black car. She tells him she’s happy to see him, and it’s the truth. He looks remarkably good.

A part of him wants to hug her, or kiss her cheek, but he decides against it. She never came back to him, she left him without ever turning back. It means she’s happy they’re not together anymore, and he needs to keep respecting that, even though he might be seeing her more often now.

They might be working together, but this, he tells himself, changes nothing.

She can’t help remembering why she’s left him when, a couple of nights later, she visits him at their old house to talk to him. He’s on fire, rambling on about some mysterious truth, thinking he’s finally this close to finding the missing piece of his puzzle, but she knows better. She knows all of this is dangerous for him, she remembers how it ended the last time. It’s just a cycle he’ll never break, she thinks as she walks away from him.

She can’t help remembering why she fell in love with him in the first place when she discovers her own DNA is altered and not completely human, and she knows he’s the only one who can understand her, and the only one she’d turn to.

**

He tells her he put William behind, that he moved on, but it’s nothing but a lie. He thinks of his son almost every day of his life, that cute little baby he never really got to know. He envies her, because at least she spent a few months with him, while he was hiding somewhere too far away from them.

What kept him going, during that period of his life, was the thought of his family back in that apartment in Georgetown. He would dream about the day he would hug them again, and the life they would have together once the danger was gone. He never told Scully, but he was ready to give up his work, his life mission, for them, to be a father.

When he found out William wasn’t his son anymore, that he would never see his baby again, the whole world crashed onto him, and there was no way he could ever truly move on from that.

He still thinks about him, but she doesn’t know, just like he doesn’t know how much her choice of giving him up still deeply affects her.

Each in their own house, they hold a picture in their hand, and they grieve, separately, alone, imagining all the things they could have done with him. They wish they could at least grieve together, like they used to do, but neither of them picks up the phone.

**

She knocks at his motel door one night. They’re in the middle of nowhere, chasing a monster or maybe an animal, and she completely forgot to pack her nightwear.

“Scully? Is everything alright?” he asks, as he opens the door and unexpectedly sees her.

“Yes, I, uhm… Can I borrow a t-shirt or something? I left my PJs at home.”

His lips curl into a mocking smirk. “I can’t recall you ever forgetting anything before.”

“Mulder, do you have a spare t-shirt or not?”

He nods, trying to repress a giggle. To be honest, he only has one t-shirt he was planning to sleep in, but he gladly gives it to her. He has no problem sleeping naked, and he loves her in his clothes too much. Maybe, if he’s lucky, he might even catch a glimpse of her in it.

He hands her an old t-shirt, half grey and half red. She thanks him quickly before walking back to her room.

**

He does catch a glimpse of her sleeping , but he’s too creeped out to actually enjoy the view. He doesn’t want to wake her up just yet, so once he’s spoken to the hotel clerk, he goes back to his room and tries to get some sleep himself.

However, the excitement is high and he’s on fire again, and all he wants is to share with her what he just learned.

It’s not even 6 am when he decides he’s done tossing and turning in his sheets, and it’s time to go wake her up too.

The first time he knocks on her door, she vaguely hears the sound but doesn’t even wake up, so he knocks again, louder. She’s awake now, but thinks he’ll just go away if she keeps ignoring him.

“Scully, it’s me!” he shouts, his hand still rhythmically hitting her door.

She groans as she finally finds the willpower to get up and let him in, still in a state between sleep and awake.

“What is it, Mulder?” she yawns, laying back in bed with a hand on her forehead. She’s not 35 anymore, waking up in the middle of a REM phase is not as easy as it used to be.

He has the files in his hands and he starts talking about what he discovered hours earlier, about his chat with the hotel clerk. He’s so focused on remembering all the details that it takes a while for him to even realise she’s drifted off to sleep, and is now snoring softly.

He smiles, warmly this time, thinking back of all the times he’s seen her like this before, peacefully asleep in his clothes. She’s still as cute as she always was, and he has to fight hard against his own instinct not to just snuggle up against her and pick up the conversation in an hour or two.

“Scully,” he whispers gently, unsuccessfully trying to wake her up.

He sits on the edge of the bed next to her, softly stroking her cheek with the back of his forefinger. She grunts, and her nose twitches, but she doesn’t wake up.

He giggles, shaking his head. Now that her mind is not really FBI level alert anymore, she can be really hard to wake up sometimes. He remembers the time in which she used to wake up at the minimum sound.

He slowly runs his finger down her nose, and playfully sticks the tip of his pad up her nostril. That does the trick.

“Mulder!” she snaps, suddenly awake.

He’s still giggling. This was one of the methods he would use to wake her up when they were together, maybe when she fell asleep in the middle of a movie he liked and he wanted to irritate her. So he would stick his pads up her nose. Or some other times he would kiss her auricle, loudly, so that she would feel the smooch noise right in her head.  

When she wanted to annoy him, she would tickle his feet, or his ribcage, or his armpits, or anywhere really.

“Scully, it’s important, I need you to be awake,” he jokes.

She sighs as she sits up on the bed, rubbing her eyes with her hands. Her bare legs are slightly spread, revealing her white panties between. She doesn’t seem to mind. “Alright, I’m awake, I’m awake. What were you saying?”

He stands up and starts pacing up and down the room again, repeating what he said earlier.

“So what?” she asks at some point.

He stops for a second and stares at her. Then, he throws on her bed the files he was still holding in his hands. “It’s a monster, Scully, plain and simple…”

**

He knocks at her apartment door, after the case is over. She called him about an hour earlier, saying she has something to tell him. So for the first time in almost three years, he drives to her place in Washington. He’s never been there before, the very few times they met while they were apart it was always at their old house.

She’s already wearing her pyjamas and a robe when she lets him in with a grin on her face. He looks around, studying the room, before landing his eyes on her again.

“What did you want to tell me?” he asks.

Her grin grows even wider. “I’ve got news! I, uhm…”

They’re interrupted by a bark, and a sound of paws hitting the floor. A little white dog with brown ears is running towards them, and Scully immediately picks him up.

“…I got a dog!” she announces to an incredulous Mulder.

His jaw pops open. She mentioned the fact that she missed having a dog earlier that day, but he had no idea she was actually planning to get one. “You what?”

“I got a dog!” she repeats cheerfully, “I told you I missed having one.”

At this point, all he can do is smile. Whatever manages to make her happy is a good idea.

“Hi there buddy,” he says, scratching the dog’s head and letting him lick his fingers. Then he turns to Scully again, “you stole him, didn’t you?”

His heart swells as she laughs softly, nodding. Even after all this time, it’s still his favourite sound in the world.

“What’s his name?” he asks.

“I still have to name him actually, I wanted your advice.”

She sits on the couch, the dog still in her arms, and he sits next to her, focusing on the fact that she just said she wants his advice on how to name her dog. As if she believed it’s _theirs_ , or could be. He shakes his head slightly, dismissing that thought.

“Well, uhm,” he starts, looking at the pup and trying to figure out a good name, “do you know what he was called at the shelter?”

She looks down at her new pet shaking her head. “I have no idea, and somehow I can’t come up with anything that isn’t the usual boring dog name.”

Mulder doesn’t even think about it too much, he says the first name that comes to his mind. “What about Daggoo?”

Scully wants to ask what kind of name that is and where he heard it, but the dog immediately starts wiggling his tail, and he climbs out of her arms and into Mulder’s lap.

“He seems to like it,” she comments, giggling while she watches Mulder getting his chin licked, ”he’s definitely a Daggoo.”

They play with Daggoo for a while, talking and laughing together in a way they haven’t done in years. Before Mulder leaves, she offers to show him around a little, since he’s never been there before. He likes her apartment, it’s not very big but it’s perfect for one person and one dog, he says. Then, he notices she  has a picture of them on her nightstand, they took it during their holiday at the Bahamas in 2008, in one of the very few occasions in which they actually left their hotel room.

“You still have our picture,” he can’t help whispering, nodding with his head at the frame.

“Of course I do.”

She looks at him. He has a longing gaze in his eyes, that of a man who still hasn’t fallen out of love, and probably never will. He always though it was just him, he thought she moved on from them months before she actually left him. But now, in her new apartment, in her new life, she still has a picture of them, and he wonders whether it’s always been there, or if she put it back in these last few weeks.

Not that he cares. The only thing that truly matters to him is that the picture is there, now, in the same day she requested his advice to name her new pet.

He looks at her eyes, at the edges of her mouth curled up in a loving smile. He’s going to close the distance between them and envelop her in his arms, but before he can move, she turns around and walks back to the living room.

He doesn’t try it again. He wants her to be the one who sets the pace between them. And wherever she leads, he will follow.  

**

She absently stares for a moment at the lake in front of her, the black urn with her mother in her hands. The clouds in the sky are so grey and thick that they make 10 in the morning look like 5 in the evening, but maybe it’s the perfect weather for a funeral, Scully thinks.

Mulder walks closer to her and gently rubs her back.

“They’re waiting for you,” he whispers.

The ashes of Maggie Scully are buried next to her husband Bill and daughter Melissa in a traditional Catholic ritual on a rainy Thursday morning, among tears and prayers of her children, grandchildren, and friends. Much to everyone’s surprise, Charlie shows up too, to say goodbye one last time to his estranged mother.

There’s a reception afterwards, where everyone shares the happiest memories they have of Maggie, reassuring the closest family that she’s still alive in their hearts and she always will be. Mulder even talks to Bill. They never liked each other, but time and age and sad circumstances taught them both they could belong to the same family, and act accordingly.

“Thank you for staying with Dana at the hospital,” Bill tells him.

It’s late afternoon when people start leaving, and Scully and her brother are left grieving alone. They hug in silence in their mother’s old bedroom. As years went by, they drifted apart from each other, but in moments like this, she realises he’s family and they love each other in their own way.

“Do you want to stay here with Bill?” Mulder asks her later on.

She thinks about it for a second, then she shakes her head. “No… I-I want to go home.”

They came here with his car, so after she says goodbye to her brother, his wife and kids, Mulder drives her back to her apartment. She spends the whole journey staring at the raindrops on the windows, while the voice on the radio talks about the perfect gift for Valentine’s day.

He pulls in in front of her building.

“Thanks for the lift,” she whispers, staring at her hands on her lap. She wishes she could ask him to stay, to hold her all night like he used to after such terrible days. She looks forward to this day to be over. She buried her mother, while finding herself unable to stop thinking about William.

He senses her misery and her hesitation, and he slowly rests his hand on hers.

“Do you want me to come in?” he asks softly.

She wishes she had the strength to tell him that she doesn’t need company, that she’s going to be fine, but the words that form in her mouth are very different.

“I can’t ask you to… I have no right,” she says.     

“You’re not asking me. _I_ asked you,” he replies, but she firmly shakes her head.

“I can’t.”

She decides the only thing she can do is leave, so she unfastens her seatbelt and opens the car door. He calls her name, pulling at her arm before she can step out, and she falls back onto the seat, tears pricking her eyes.

“You stayed with me the night my mother passed away,” he reminds her.

She sighs, her teeth playing with her lower lip.

“The last time you needed me I dumped you and never turned back,” she whispers, trying to keep calm, but as soon as the words leave her mouth it’s evident that her voice is betraying her, “you’ve stayed with me the whole day already, and the day my mother died… I can’t ask you anything else.”

He’s slow in his movements, so very slow, as he leans towards her and tentatively tries to cradle her in his arms. She resists at first, but it’s been a long day and her defences crumble like a house made of straw during a storm. As the first tears spill from her eyes, she leans her head on his shoulder and feels his arms wrap around her, as much as possible considered the position.

“It took two people to break up our relationship, Scully,” he whispers against her head, “if it’d been me in your position, you would have wanted me to do the same.”

Maybe one day they’ll talk about it, they’ll talk about his and her mistakes, possibly after making love, but right now, all he wants is to stay with her and comfort her. All he wants is her to understand that although she broke his heart, he could never resent her for her decision to leave him. He knows it wasn’t an easy one. On some level, he even admires the courage it took her to walk away from him after twenty years.  He just loves her that much.

“Let’s get inside,” he whispers.

He doesn’t know what exactly made her change her mind, but he feels her nod slightly against his shoulder.

“Thank you,” her feeble voice says.

He parks the car and they head to her apartment together.

“We can order a pizza and watch a movie,” she suggests tentatively, while she searches her keys in her bag.

He presses a quick kiss on top of her head. “Sounds good to me.”

The first thing she does is greet Daggoo. She hired a dog-sitter to feed him and walk him a couple of hours a day, but judging by the way he wiggles his tail every time she crosses the threshold, he misses her a lot. She always makes sure she finds some time to pet him or play with him in the evenings, or whenever she can.

Then she tells Mulder to make himself at home, while she changes into more comfortable clothes. She’s back some time later wearing her pyjama pants and a slightly oversized sweater.

His hearth swells at the intimacy of the scene, something that used to be so familiar and that he never thought he would witness again.

She sits with him on the couch and grabs her phone to order their pizza. Pepperoni and mushrooms, her head repeats, as she allows herself to smile for a second.

“Usually they deliver very quickly on weeknights,” she says once the order is complete.

Then she leans down, almost automatically, like she always does after a long day. Her head and shoulders land on the pillow on the armrest, and her legs on his lap. It feels so natural to her that she doesn’t even realise it at first, it’s like her body has its own will and has suddenly forgot Mulder is not her partner anymore.

She hates herself a little, because she doesn’t even care. Right now she lacks the strength to act any differently, to act as if this weren’t the man she’s loved for more than twenty years. Her decision to leave him had nothing to do with lack of feelings, she tells herself, and hopes he knows that too.

He shifts just a little, so that he’s now sitting facing her, with his shoulder against the backside.

She smiles at him, as to thank him for not giving up on her, even though she may deserve it.

He smiles back, as to assure her that he’s glad he can help her.

He takes off her socks and wraps his hands around her left foot, making her sighs just a little when his thumbs start rubbing her arch in slow circles, applying more pressure where he knows she likes it.

“You don’t have to,” she tries to protest, immediately rolling her eyes at herself for sounding vaguely desperate for him to continue.

“You’ll have your chance to repay me later,” he jokes. She lifts the corner of her mouth, while he keeps working on her foot.

Silence falls between them for a few seconds. He watches the expression on her face, her eyes closed, the curve of her mouth a flat line. It’s like ten years haven’t passed at all.

“Do you remember? We used to do this all the time,” she says.

“Pizza and Netflix is the new pizza and Blockbuster,” he jokes again, and the slightest hint of a smirk appears on her face.

“Do you remember our Star Wars marathon?”

“I could never forget it.”

As he switches foot, they both smile remembering the good times in their relationship. The Star Wars marathon dates back to 2005, the Sunday before the third episode was released. They watched all the five movies one after the other, with short breaks just to eat something or go to the toilet. Then, the following Friday they drove to the local cinema to watch the latest episode.

“Have you seen the new one already?” she asks, her eyelids fluttering open.

“No… all the streaming links I find have a terrible quality,” he replies, “have you?”

She shakes her head. “Same.”

Neither of them mentions the fact that they didn’t go see it in the theatre because they had no one who would go with them.

“Do you remember that time you were pregnant and you made me drive almost one hour and a half to the only cinema that still had The Emperor’s New Groove?”

It was his attempt to make her smile again, but as soon as he pronounces the last words, he can see her eyes cloud up, and he realises he picked a bad example.

“It was worth it, though, great movie,” she says, but the hint of light-heartedness they just shared has disappeared. Her eyes look up to the ceiling, as his fingers keep moving on her foot.

He’s afraid to tell her anything, afraid to say one more wrong thing. He knows she’s thinking of William again, like she’s been doing all day.

“Do you think he’s okay?” she asks after a few seconds, her voice no more than a whisper.

He immediately knows who she’s talking about.

“I don’t know,” he hesitates, “I hope so.”

Out of habit, he places a feather-light kiss beneath her toes. Although she smiles for a second, he can see her eyes are getting moist.

“I can’t stop thinking about him, Mulder,” she says. Her voice is broken now. He takes her hand and pulls it lightly towards him.

“Come here,” he says.

She follows, immediately, without asking, she sits up and buries her head in his chest, wrapping her arms around him.

“I’ve been dreaming about him a lot,” he admits softly, against her head.

She looks up at him, her teary blue eyes breaking his heart. “You said you moved on.”

“I tried.”

She sits with her head against his shoulder now, her knees tucked up against her chest, his arm around her keeping her close.

“I dream about him too,” she says.

They tell each other about their dreams, and about the nightmares too. The silver lining in that moment, for both of them, is that the other is there to share the pain. Whether Scully likes it or not, there’s only one person in this world who is able to understand the deep, excruciating void she carries inside, and that is Mulder. He too has a piece of his heart that is growing up and walking around somewhere way too far from them.

Sharing their pain, briefly talking about their lost son, somehow makes them both a little lighter, just like it used to be.

“Maybe we’ll see him again someday,” he whispers, after kissing her forehead. He doesn’t really believe it. He wants to, but he doesn’t. In those moments after a nightmare, he’s not even sure he wants to at all.

“Yeah, maybe we will,” she agrees. She stopped believing that years ago, or maybe she never truly did.

Mulder knows that in this particular day he needs to be the strong one, so he decides to try and cheer her up, even just for a few seconds. He quickly kicks away his shoes and socks and lifts his legs up on the couch, onto Scully’s lap.

“My turn,” he says, and the right corner of her mouth curls up, imperceptibly. That day, even the smallest smile means the world to him.

She rubs his feet softly for a couple of minutes, trying to avoid tickling him, unsuccessfully, as usual. They even giggle when Daggoo notices that Mulder’s shoes are left unattended, and seizes the moment to chew on them.

They watch a movie afterwards, eating their pizza. They both want something that doesn’t require a lot of attention, and eventually they pick Love Actually. They snuggle up together under a big blanket, while Daggoo is already sleeping in his basket.

It doesn’t really matter which movie they’re watching, since they both fall asleep halfway through it. Her head leans on his shoulder, and his head is on top of hers.

She’s the first one to wake up with the final song, while he keeps sleeping soundly. When the movie’s over, she turns off the TV and just takes a moment to gaze at his peaceful features and to enjoy his light snoring, that used to be the main soundtrack of her nights.

She still loves him so much, she thinks while her hands work to loosen his tie, and she drapes the blanket gently over him.

She smiles to herself. That’s how it started, the very first time they made love. She fell asleep and he covered her up so that she would be warm. The rest is history.

That night she knows there will be no love-making, and it’s an awareness that somehow saddens her. She wishes she could feel his hands on her body, his mouth on hers, his warmth surrounding her and making her feel loved.

She doesn’t even know if he would want that, if he would still want her in that sense.

She walks to her bedroom, careful not to make too much noise, and switches off the lights after glancing at him one last time.

However, no matter how hard she tries, she keeps tossing and turning in her sheets, unable to fall asleep, too many thoughts crowding her mind. She’s awake when, some time later, she hears him tiptoe into her room and kneel down at the side of the bed. She chooses not to open her eyes and just pretend she’s asleep. It’s easier, she tells herself, than having to face him and tell him he should go home, when all she wants is him to stay.

She feels his hand brush her hair, softly, almost imperceptibly.

“You really think I don’t know when you’re asleep?” he whispers suddenly, and her eyes flutter open.

In spite of the darkness she can see his sweet gaze, silently asking her what he’s supposed to do, while his hand doesn’t stop the soothing movement on her hair.

Once again, she just can’t bring herself to say no.

“Get in.”

She hears the familiar rustle of his clothes, she knows it by heart. He removes his tie, he unbuttons his shirt, he unzips his pants.

“It’s freezing in here,” he mutters, sliding under the duvet.

She watches him, in his boxers and a white t-shirt, as he lies on his side, his hands patting the empty spot next to his chest, silently asking her to be his little spoon.  

She doesn’t move, she just turns her head on the pillow towards him.

“We used to be friends,” she whispers in the dark.

He gives her a quizzical look. “We still are.”

“No, I mean… I used to think we could tell each other everything.”

“We can.”

She bites her lip. “Then why did we stop talking? What happened?”

To this, he doesn’t know the answer.

Sighing, she finally shifts closer and spoons against his warm chest. He nuzzles her hair, inhaling her smell, wishing it could be again a part of his nights.

“Maybe there’s a way to find us again,” he whispers against her head, his arm wrapping around her waist. His hands travels lower, lifting the edge of her pyjama top and sneaking under it. 

She cracks a smile as his fingers trace slow circles on her belly, exactly the way she used to like it.

“Still good?” he asks.

“Still good.”

Soon slumber makes her eyelids heavier.

**

The temperature is warm to be a winter day, they hold hands on the path to their house.

She thinks they really are finding a common language again.

Before having time to change her mind, she closes the distance between them and wraps her arms around his body.

He’s never wanted to kiss her this much, not even the first time they kissed. He feels he might die if he doesn’t press his lips against hers immediately, but he has to refrain himself. She’s in his arms, her head leans against his chest, he’s terrified that any action could scare her away.

She’s the one who broke up with him, his mind repeats, she’s the one who has to take the first step, if and when she wants to.

So they just hug tightly, his chin resting on top of her head.

He invites her inside for a hot tea, noticing how she looks around the house, in her eyes something that looks like nostalgia.

They drink their beverage, talking. He finally tells her he has Facebook, and she laughs because his name is “Trust Noone” and his profile picture is ET. Then, he mocks her because his Candy Crush Saga record is way higher than hers.

He invites her to dance in the living room, after opening Spotify and setting a romantic playlist as background. They snicker when the soft, slow music is regularly interrupted by the ad breaks.

Not that it matters.

They just enjoy each other’s body and warmth, song after song, moving together, neither of them counting the minutes. He lets his lips slide to her cheek, planting a kiss there, and then on the tip of her nose, planting another, in a silent request. He needs to kiss her. He lets his nose brush on hers  as he slowly tilts his head to reach her lips, almost groaning with disappointment when she takes a step back.

“Mulder…” she whispers, meeting his eyes, “I can’t.”

He nods, biting his lip to repress another sigh. “Okay. I’m sorry.”

He’s already kicking his own ass for ruining everything, and expects her to walk away at any moment now, but she’s not moving.

Instead, she speaks again.

“Let’s go on a date,” she says, almost in one breath.

He looks at her as if she’s just said aliens exist.

“What?”

“I want to take you out on a date,” she repeats calmly, “tomorrow night.”

He almost laughs as he tells her they never really went on a date before, and she says that’s her point. He wants to ask her, at first, the reason behind this decision, but he knows already. It’s her rational side taking time to understand what she truly wants.

“So?” she asks.

He grins, widely. Of course he wants to go on a date with her.

“Pick me up at 8,” she says.

They flirt more than usual in the office the following day, but at the same time they openly discuss their date. He asks her what he should wear, they bicker about the restaurant, only to decide they’ll go to the movies.

That evening they sit in the darkness of the local cinema watching Deadpool surrounded mainly by people half their age, but they don’t really care. When their hands brush in the popcorn basket, they feel half their age too.

He drives her home afterwards, hoping this time to steal a kiss, but when he leans over, she turns her face so that his lips land on her cheek.

“I need some more time,” she admits.

He sighs, but his lips are curled up. He will give her all the time she needs, just like he did the first time they got together.

He leans over again and peppers kisses all over her face, on her cheeks, nose, forehead, everywhere she lets him, tasting her as much as possible. It’s not quite the same as actually kissing her, but he knows it will do.  

When he leans back, a sweet loving smile has appeared on her mouth. It would be so easy, she thinks, to just let go now, to invite him upstairs, and see where the night takes them.

Instead, she takes his face in her hands, leaning her forehead against his, softly nuzzling his nose, her eyes fixed on his, finding there a mixture of love and passion, and maybe just a hint of amusement.

Then suddenly her lips are on his, brushing lightly in a quick peck that is already over before he can realise it happened.

“The world didn’t end,” she whispers, finding his eyes again.

He gives her a confused look. “What…?”

“It’s what you told me after you first kissed me,” she replies, “now you’re supposed to say ‘no it di’-“

She can’t finish her sentence that the loud rumble of a thunder interrupts her, followed by a sudden heavy rain.

He shrugs, glancing around the car, then back at her. “ _You_ called it.”  

Another thunder.

“Yeah,” she agrees, “I should have never kissed you.”

They smirk, and then they say goodnight without kissing again.

The next day is a Friday, it’s still cold and rainy, and he brings her coffee and a donut as he greets her in the morning.

She has a surprise for him too, but waits until the end of the working day to show him.

Right before they leave in the evening, she hands him a business card. His eyes grow wider as he reads it, before looking at her again.

“A psychotherapist?” he asks, his voice betraying his confusion, “you think I need therapy?”

Much to his surprise, she shakes her head. “ _We_ do.”

He immediately understands what she means.

“It’s something we should have done years ago,” she continues, “Dr Mills used to be a consultant at the hospital, she’s really good, she’s going to help us talk about our problems… our past, our job… all the times we risked our lives…”

“…William…” he adds.

“…William,” she agrees, “I think therapy is something we need to do before… Before everything else.”

He nods.

Although he’s made up his mind already, she tells him she’s going to visit Bill for the weekend, sort out their mother’s belongings and decide what to do with them, so she’ll see Mulder again on Monday. He’ll have time to think if her solution works for him too.

They hug and kiss goodbye on the cheek, before she walks away.

“Scully, wait,” he calls her, “this fact that we’re doing _couples_ therapy, does it mean that… you know…?”

Her smile is filled with love. “Yes, that’s what it means.”

Then, she walks out of the door. Both are already looking forward to seeing each other again next week.

However, when Scully steps into their office on Monday morning, Mulder’s nowhere to be seen. His laptop sits open on top of his desk.


	3. Part III

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone! I'm soooo sorry for the delay, but I've been busy, and plus this part never satisfied me enough to post it! Anyway, here I am now. This third and final part deals with what happens after My Struggle II, or what I'd like to see in s11 but will never happen. (More notes about this at the end) Also, I tried to keep this as medically accurate as possible, but there might be some mistakes.  
> One more thing: for some reason, I wrote a lot about William, about him as a character and about his reunion with M&S. If you're not interested in this, if you're just here for the MSR part, I made it easy for you, just read from 'xx' to 'xx'.   
> Well enjoy, and thanks for reading :)

**Part III**

 

Scully knew perfectly well that if there was one person in this world who could track down William in time, that would be Monica. Working with the devil has its advantages. Scully trusts her former friend enough to believe she will safely take William to her.

It was Monica who helped her give birth to him, it was Monica whose shoulder she cried on after signing the adoption papers. Scully knows in her heart that Monica might have changed sides now, but she would never hurt William.

As a matter of fact, Monica said she already knew where he was, had known for a while. She just needed a few of hours.

It’s still night outside. Mulder lies in a hospital bed, drifting in and out of consciousness, and Scully’s next to him, holding his hand. She gave him fluids and the only cure they have so far for this virus, but ultimately she’s just praying God to let him survive long enough so that he can get the treatment.

Her phones buzzes in her pocket. It’s Monica.

“He’s with me. We’ll be there by morning,” the brunette says.

“Did you get an adult’s consent for the procedure?”

“Yes, I’ve got everything.”

“Okay… please get here as quickly as you can.”

When Scully hangs up, a few tears stream down her cheeks, a mix of different emotions making their way into her mind and heart.

She has dreamed for fourteen years to see her son again, and in a couple of hours it will be a reality. A part of her could almost say she’s happy.

The other part is worried sick about Mulder. Even if he survives until the transplant, there’s no way to be sure this will eventually work.

She can only start chemotherapy on him and pray for the best.

“He’s coming, Mulder… our baby, William… we found him, he’s coming here…” she whispers to his ear, laying down next to him with her head on his chest, like so many times in the past.

He mumbles their son’s name before he completely loses consciousness again.

**

Monica called her again half an hour ago, explaining all the details. His name is William Van de Kamp, he lives in Casper, Wyoming. His parents are both dead. His aunt is the one who gave the consent for the procedure, she’s sick too but very early on, so her chances are good. She even wanted to come to DC, but the on call doctor forbade her to leave the hospital. Then he has another uncle, who lives in Amsterdam. He has no other living relatives.

Monica told Scully that William already knew that he was adopted. She explained him his story, how he was born and why he was given up, and the current situation.

“I told him who you are, and what he needs to do, so once we get there you can start collecting the stem cells immediately,” Monica said, then she hung up.

Scully is on the roof of the hospital when the helicopter approaches, the sun is rising behind the skyscrapers. She doesn’t want to know how Monica managed to get an helicopter.

The older woman steps out of the vehicle first, and Scully can feel her heart hammering in her chest. Her son is here, she’s going to see him again after so many years of being apart.

And suddenly, there he is, a thin boy with brown hair and a pale complexion. She can’t see the details of his face yet. She only sees that he’s shorter than Monica, he wears a hoodie, loose jeans and red sneakers, and he has a backpack on his shoulder. He’s lanky, his limbs painfully long, but as he gets closer, she can see his face is still that of a child, with round cheeks and big eyes.

He’s as tall as her, maybe a couple of inches shorter, but then again, she’s wearing heels. Her eyes study him, frenetically searching for something familiar, something that proves her that this boy truly is her son, because right now, he could be anyone. The only confirmation she finds is the fact that he has blue eyes, like hers, and she wonders if it’s stupid to expect a teenager to have anything in common with a year-old baby.

“William, this is Dana,” Monica says.

He only says “hi”, running a hand through his hair. He’s not smiling and his voice is weird, not that of a child anymore, but not that of a young man either. The oddness of the early teenage years, she thinks.

She wants to wrap her arms around him and hold him tight, telling him how much she’s always loved him and how much she missed him, how much she’s thought of him every single day of her life since he was given up for adoption.

She doesn’t. She doesn’t want to scare him just yet. And Mulder is still lying on a fine line between life and death. She just can’t waste any time.

She smiles at him, although he’s still not smiling back, and they shake hands. His skin is soft and his hand is not much bigger than hers, not at all in fact.

**

Scully explained him the procedure. She only spoke as a doctor, completely omitting any personal detail, it was just about the stem cell collection and his prognosis afterwards.

During the surgery she sat in the OR gallery, and she heard him scream in pain, in spite of the local anaesthesia. It was the worst sound she ever heard, and she immediately left, almost regretting having put her baby through such pain.

The stem collection was successful though, medically speaking.

She spent the following couple of hours between Mulder’s room and the lab, where Einstein and other doctors were trying to develop as many vaccine doses as possible, and starting to deliver it to New York, Philadelphia and other cities via helicopter.

Now William’s sleeping peacefully in a hospital bed, under pain medications, with Scully sitting on the chair next to him, watching him intently. Now that he’s so close to her, she can see how much they look alike. He has her nose, her cheekbones, her chin.

The only thing of Mulder she can see in him is the colour of his hair, and maybe his lips, though not quite. William doesn’t have Mulder’s pouty lower lip. Plus, William’s hair is sort of curly. At first she wondered where he got that from, but tears welled up in her eyes as she found her answer. Maggie’s hair looked exactly like that. Missy’s too.

Scully wonders what his smile looks like. He still hasn’t smiled once, not that he has any reason to, but a part of her expected him to be at least a little happy that they met, that he met his birth mother. Instead he never even really looked at her, at least not while she could notice. He was always cold, distant, just nodding here and there to acknowledge her words. If she wasn’t sure he agreed to this procedure, she would think he was forced to come here.

She wants to stroke his hair, hold his hand, everything that a mother would do in this situation, but once again all she can do is watch.

His eyes flutter open after a while, he looks around the room until his gaze lands on her.

“I was hoping it was all a nightmare,” he whispers, and closes his eyes again.

She hates that her son connects her face to such a dark moment of his young life.

“Hey, you’re awake! How are you feeling?” she asks.

He shrugs, without saying a word.

“Are you… uhm, are you in pain?” she asks again, the uncertainty clear in her voice.

He shrugs again.

She has no idea how to react to his indifference. She expected him to be curious about his origins, to have loads of questions for her. Or she expected him to be sad, and in need of a warm hug.

This indifference, she didn’t expect.

“Uhm, Will, I-“

“William,” he corrects her. His eyes are now open and fixed on the ceiling.

“William,” she repeats, “I just want you to know that I’m very sorry for your family, and I would like to thank you very much for agreeing on doing this.”

“Whatever.”

She’s grateful that he’s not looking at her, or he would see her eyes glisten with tears. She reminds herself that not only is he a teenager, but he’s also going through what is likely to be the worst day of his life.

_It’s okay that he’s acting like that, Dana. He’s suffering. You need to be patient._

She blink back her tears and prays he can’t hear the lump in her throat. “You know, if you need anything, you can jus-“

“Can you leave me alone?”

If he’d punched her right in the face it would have hurt less.

“What?” she asks, pretending she hasn’t heard.

“I said, can you leave me alone? I want to call my aunt,” he spits harshly, and this time, all she can do is leave, muttering something about checking on Mulder.

She does visit him in his room, although he’s not actually there. He was put in a pharmacological coma to allow his body to rest before the transplant, the following morning.

She wants to touch him, and kiss him, but all her body except her eyes is covered up with surgical clothes. The chemotherapy is destroying his immune system, so she can only look at him and talk to him. She tells him how much she looks forward to him being okay again, to making love to him. Screw couples therapy, she should have followed her heart, knowing way too well they wouldn’t have all the time in the world.

Then, she tells him about William.

“I don’t know what to do with him Mulder… he keeps pushing me away… it-it feels like I’m hitting a wall… what am I supposed to do?” she weeps, squeezing his hand.

She just knows she has to try harder, and not give up. He’s her son after all.

**

About an hour later, she walks in front of William’s room and notices that he’s playing with his phone. She walks in, waving a bag of Skittles. She knows a mother shouldn’t get her kid candies when he’s in the hospital, but she’s so desperate for him to talk to her, to give her a chance, that she would do anything.

“I brought you something, I thought you’d fancy a snack,” she says, walking closer and sitting on the chair next to his bed again.

He quickly glances at the little red bag before returning his attentions to the phone in his hands, his fingers typing something. “I don’t like those.”

The hopeful look in her eyes disappears immediately. “Oh, okay, right… I can get you something else,” she offers.

This time, he just ignores her completely. Not even a shrug.

She has to fight her instinct to scream in frustration and disappointment, mixed with the disillusion of realising she doesn’t know how to handle her own son.

“How long do I have to stay here?” he asks suddenly.

The only question he’s asked her so far is one that implies he doesn’t like her company. As if that wasn’t clear already.

She finds herself almost glad that at least he spoke to her.

“They’ll probably keep you here overnight, just to make sure everything is alright… ideally you should rest for the 24 hours following the surgery.”

A day. A day is what she has to learn something about her son, maybe even bond with him.

However in that moment, as if fate had decided to play a mean trick on her, a nurse comes into William’s room.

“William Van De Kamp? You’re discharged. You’re free to go,” she says.

Scully’s heart jumps up in her throat. This can’t be it. The time with her son can’t be over already. They didn’t even have an actual conversation yet. She hasn’t even seen him smile.

Tears well up in her eyes. “What? Already?” she asks the nurse.  

“I’m sorry Dr Scully, but we need the room for sick patients… He looks good. His last tests are good. He can go. He just needs to be careful for a few days, and we can provide him with pain killers in case he’s still in pain tonight.”

With that, the nurse leaves the room.

And as Scully notices the little smile on William’s lips, she gives up. That’s how it ends.

She never believed she would see her son again, but in those few times in which she let herself dream of a potential reunion, she always imagined that they would bond, catch up for the time lost. They would hug, and talk, and learn things about each other. In some of her wildest dreams, he even recognised her.

Reality just turned out to be so meanly different. Maybe it was the circumstances, or his age, or something she did or didn’t do, or maybe all of these things combined made their short time together meaningless and unpleasant. As if the memories of leaving him behind at the adoption agency weren’t painful enough.

She tries to look at the bright side. At least she met him, she saw he’s fine. He’s not an alien, he’s a normal boy. He’s even a bit of a brat, like any teenager is expected to be, her mind adds.  

If this is all she gets, she’ll cherish it for the rest of her life just like she cherishes the memory of that baby in a funny hat with bunny ears.

“So? I can go home, right?” he asks. It’s the first time she catches him look at her.

She takes a deep breath. The doctor and the mother in her are refusing to let him go like that.

She only lets the first one speak. “William, as a medical doctor, I insist that you should rest some more… I don’t think facing a long journey right now is a good idea…”

She’s not even done with the sentence that he’s rolling his eyes.

“I’m only concerned about your well-being,” she continues, “I know how you feel, I know you miss your family, but-“

“Now you think you know how I feel?!” he’s suddenly snapping, his eyes on hers and flashing with rage, “you don’t know anything about me, anything! You didn’t just lose your family, you don’t know how I feel!”

He crosses his arms to his chest  and rolls on his side, so that she faces his back. “Go away!” he barks.

She sighs. She may as well speak to him. She has nothing to lose. If this is the last conversation she has with him, at least he knows how she feels.

“My mother died two weeks ago… a heart attack,” she starts, “you think a person in her 50s should be ready to lose a parent, because that’s how things are, that’s the circle of life, you should have learnt it by the time you’re 50… but no matter how old you are, you’re never ready to lose your mum.”

She doesn’t know if he’s listening, if he’s interested, but he’s not complaining aloud. He’s silent, still. She goes on.

“I lost my dad too, when I was 30… and then two years later I lost my sister, Melissa… I called her Missy. She was shot in _my_ apartment by people who were waiting for _me_ … to kill _me_.”

Tears are once again pricking her eyes, but she doesn’t care anymore.

“And then…” she adds, hearing her own voice quiver, “then I lost you. You were my miracle, I loved you more than anything in this world, more than life itself and I had to give you up. So I think I can imagine what you’re going through right now, and believe me when I say I know you miss your family… but I still believe it would be safer if you stayed here until tomorrow.”

She gets up from the chair, sniffling. “However, right now I’m not _your_ doctor, nor any kind of legal guardian, and you were officially discharged… so if you want to go home, I’ll arrange that for you.”

She heads towards the door, her own arms wrapped around herself for comfort, when his voice reaches her from behind.

“If I decided to stay, where would that be? They said they need the room.”

His tone is calm now. She wasn’t expecting to hear his voice at all, let alone a genuine question regarding the chance to stay in DC, instead of going home.

Not caring about her wet eyes or her probably shaky voice, she turns around, glad to see she’s not facing his back anymore.

“You would need to come home with me… I don’t live very far from here, I think that would be the best option.”

His eyes shift quickly between her and his hands on his lap, still holding his phone. “Okay, I’ll stay,” he whispers.

She can’t believe her ears.

**

After checking on Mulder one last time, she drives home with William. Although he still hasn’t said a word, she can sense his attitude is different. She has no real hopes though. They’ll probably watch some TV in silence, or he’ll spend the whole evening on his iPad. And tomorrow he’ll be gone forever. She’s starting to accept it, so that she won’t be too sad or disappointed when it happens.

Her eyes are on the road, but sometimes she lets herself glance at him sitting in the passenger seat. He’s been biting his nails since they left the hospital.

They’re almost home when he calls her.

“Dana?”

It’s the first time he says her name. “Yes?”

“How is… uhm, what’s his name again?”

She can’t help smiling at his sudden interest. _Don’t get your hopes up, Dana._ “Fox Mulder.”

“Right, how’s Fox doing?”

“He’s okay… he’s resting. We’ll do the transplant tomorrow morning,” she replies.

She sees him nod with the corner of her eyes, before he falls silent again.

Once home, she introduces him to Daggoo. However, William doesn’t seem too excited about it, he just pets the dog a few seconds before standing up again.

She wonders if he doesn’t like dogs, or if there’s something else going on.

When she heads to the kitchen to check if there’s anything edible she can cook, he follows her, standing around at distance, looking at his phone or pretending to, while he keeps biting his nails.

She knows she might be completely wrong, but she has a feeling that he’s trying to get her attention somehow, trying to tell her something.

Before leaving the hospital, she decided she was going to leave him some space. If he ever wanted to, he would come to her, talk to her, otherwise she would leave him alone.

She wonders if that’s exactly what he’s trying to do.

Taking a deep breath, she slowly approaches him. He’s frozen on the spot, staring at his feet.

“William?” she asks carefully. “Is everything okay?”

She’s completely taken aback when he slightly shakes his head.

“I’m sorry,” he starts, his voice little and almost inaudible, “for what I said… I wasn’t very nice to you.”

Her lips curl up in a smile, as she realises they might be taking a step forward, and she tells him the only thing she can think of. “It’s okay… it’s understandable, you’re going through a lot, you-you lost your parents, you came here, you-“

Suddenly, he’s crying right in front of her, and she finally sees him for who he is behind his deceivingly tall body - nothing but a scared child.

“I just…” he weeps, “my mum and dad just died, and-and I didn’t want new ones…”

His voice becomes fainter and fainter while he speaks. Instinctively she pulls him into a tight hug, forgetting all the anger, the fear, the disappointment, only wanting to comfort him.

“No William, it’s not like that,” she says sweetly, while he keeps crying against her shoulder, “your mum and dad will always be your mum and dad, okay? No one is replacing them, ever.”

He nods, sniffling, as she feels her shirt wetting up with his tears.

“Fox and I, we are…” she wants to continue, but suddenly words are failing her. She pulls away just a little, finding herself facing his puffy wet eyes, and snot pooled above his upper lip. She lifts her hands to his red face to dry some tears from his cheeks.

“We are whatever you want us to be, alright? You decide, baby… there’s no replacing anyone, there will never be,” she says eventually, her eyes fixed on his, two identical shades of blue, making sure he understood her point. And that she understood it too.

She’ll never be William Scully’s mother ever again, because this is not William Scully anymore. William Scully ceased to exist on a warm spring morning in 2002. This is William Van De Kamp.

And she honestly can’t believe how much she’s looking forward to getting to know him. And maybe, one day, be _his_ mother, if he wants to.

“It’s up to you, okay? It’s all up to you,” she repeats once more, and this time he nods. She finds herself nodding with him.

Then all of a sudden he’s wrapping his long arms around her once more, burying his head on her shoulder, and she lets him, soothingly rubbing his back. He’s not really crying anymore, but she can still feel some random hiccups shake his body.

If this is what he needs from her right now, to just be held, she’s very glad to help him. She remembers the last time she held him, when he wasn’t even a year old and he fitted perfectly in her arms. In some ways, she can’t help thinking with a smile, he still fits, just differently.

“Dana?” he whispers after a minute against her shoulder, the sound muffled by her now soaked shirt, “it’s not true that I don’t like Skittles, I do.”

She lets out a relieved laugh, steaming off a lot of tension. She’s quite sure he’s laughing too, just a little.

“Good thing I still have them in my bag if you want them later,” she says, and they part. His cheeks are still wet and he keeps sniffling, but there’s a little smile now painted on his lips.

As to prove a point, she notices his smile doesn’t quite look like hers, nor Mulder’s. That’s a brand new smile, she thinks, that’s William’s smile.

She loves it.

“I’m going to make some dinner now, do you like Mac and Cheese?” she asks as he blows his nose, and she’s relieved when he nods, since that’s the only thing she has at the moment.

Much to her surprise, things go way better after that. While Scully cooks dinner, William plays with Daggoo a few minutes, until his back starts to hurt again. He sits down on the couch, and they eat there, spending half of the time trying to get Daggoo to eat his own dinner next to the coffee table instead of the Mac and Cheese in their plates.

For Scully that’s a chance to hear William laugh. It immediately becomes her favourite sound. Afterwards they decide to watch something, and while exchanging various opinions on airing programs and Netflix options, she finds out he watches a lot of TV series.

“My favourite’s Game of Thrones… it’s lit,” he says.

She doesn’t watch it, but she’s heard of it, not only for the expertise of the cast. “Are you sure… I mean, doesn’t it have… uhm, scenes, in it… that aren’t really…?”

He’s already shrugging. “It’s not like I’m twelve, I’m fifteen… and so far I’ve aced all my biology tests.”

She’s not sure he’s making a good point, but she lets it go. Soon she discovers he even watches The Big Bang Theory. She figures they’ve found common ground, judging by the grin appearing on his face. She’s loving that smile a little more every second.

“Who’s your favourite?” he asks.

“I like Sheldon.”

He rolls his eyes. “That’s so mainstream!”

“Well, who do you like?”

He grins. “I’m team Koothrappali.”

She tells him she missed the previous week episode, since she was at the movies, and he says he missed it too because he was finishing some homework.

“We can watch it now, if you want,” he proposes.

They do.

Later on, when the pain in his lower back grows a little sharper, he decides to lay down in bed. Her bed, since it’s the only one in the house. She’ll take the couch.

After they say goodnight and agreed on a wake up time, she takes Daggoo for a very short walk around the block. Then she wears her pyjamas and she lays down in the living room, with Daggoo between her side and the back seat of the couch, and she calls the hospital to see how Mulder is doing. She sighs in relief when the on call nurse tells her he’s stable.

She’s just hung up the phone when William’s head pops from behind the bedroom door.

“Is everything okay?” she asks.

He shakes his head timidly. “Do you have a pain killer or something?”

“Yeah, sure… lay back down, I’ll bring it to you.”

She sits on the edge of the bed while he drinks his paracetamol, then he hands her back the empty glass, thanking her. She’s going to say goodnight again and leave when he calls her.

“Dana?”

She sits back.

“I just wanted to say thank you, for… uhm,” he starts nervously, “for the dinner… and for having me over…”

His cheeks are coloured in bright red now.

She smiles. “It was my pleasure. I’ve always wanted to get to know you.”

A moment of silence falls on them, in which she wonders if her words made him uncomfortable.

“Hey, I have some pictures in my phone… of me, you know… of Wyoming… if you want to see them?” he asks then. “Unless you were going to sleep.”

Well, she _was_ planning to sleep. A part from a couple of naps, she’s been up for 36 hours, she’s exhausted.

But her son wants to show her some pictures of his life, and she thinks she’ll sleep tomorrow, once he’s gone, possibly forever.

“I’d love to.”

This is how Scully discovers some bits of William’s life, sitting next to him on her bed with her back against the pillow, the room only lit up by the dim light on the nightstand and the brighter one of his phone.

She learns his best friend’s name is Samuel, that they’re like brothers and that since they met in third grade they’ve done everything together. She learns that William used to live in a farm before that, but that his parents had to sell it and find a job in the city after the economic crisis hit them in 2008. She learns that he doesn’t mind living in the city, he likes it in fact, he’s just a bike ride from school and everyone.

“You know what’s weird, Sam’s father lives here in Washington,” he adds, smirking at the oddity of it all.

She learns the names of his squad, as he calls it. Other than himself and Samuel, there’s Jared, Finn, Colin and Luke.

“No girls?” she asks him.

He blushes violently. “Uhm, no… no girls.”

She learns that he’s a bit of a nerd, although she suspected this already, that he likes videogames and sci-fi stuff, and that he’s not really good at sports, although he does enjoy playing basketball with his friends in the big park right behind his school. She learns that he loves running, that he even runs pretty fast and that he’s a member of the school athletics team.

She learns he’s close to his Dutch cousins, as he calls them, Dennis and Judith, and that last summer he was allowed to visit them in Amsterdam by himself, for two weeks. She learns that he’s trying to learn Dutch, but that so far he can only order a coke at the restaurant.

Languages might not be his strong suit, but, she learns, he’s good at math and wants to go to med school. She feels a urge of pride when he says that, although she knows she has nothing to do with that.

“Or if that doesn’t work out, I want to be a pastry chef,” he adds. She laughs a little at that.

“What, my cheesecake is the best!” he protests, playfully sticking out his tongue.

“I believe you,” she says, still giggling.

She learns that her son is in fact not a brat at all. He’s a clever, fun, interesting young person.

He keeps showing her more pictures of his friends until suddenly one of him and his parents next to the Christmas tree appears on the screen. He freezes for a moment. She glances at him, seeing him bite his lower lip.

“These… these are my parents,” he says, his voice painfully shaky, “my mum Cynthia and my dad Peter.”

Staring at the picture, she can only feel admiration for these two wonderful people who raised and loved her boy for fourteen years.

“You’re a beautiful family,” she says sweetly. He nods, and she realises he’s crying when he removes a hand from the phone to wipe away some tears on his cheeks.

She gently rests a hand on his shoulder in comfort, and suddenly he’s shifting closer to her and leaning his head on her shoulder.

“I miss them,” he whispers.

She remembers when he used to cry as a baby, and all she had to do was pick him up and rock him around until he stopped or fell asleep. If she raised him, she would know what to do now. Instead she has to improvise.

Tentatively she wraps her arm around his shoulders, pulling him a little closer, until the messy mop of his hair is tickling her jaw. Since he doesn’t move, she dares a little more, lifting her hand until she’s delicately stroking his curls.

He doesn’t pull away. If anything, she has the impression that he just snuggled a little more into her.

“I know,” she says, “and I wish I could tell you that it gets better, but it never really does… you’ll always miss them, some days a bit more, some days a little less.”

He sniffles, and wipes his nose with the back of his hand.

“But it’s also true that they never really leave you,” she continues, “every time you think of them, every time you remember the happy moments you shared together, they’re alive again.”

It’s what her mother told her when Scully was six and her grandpa died. Every time she loses someone, that speech replays in her mind.

She knows for sure she said the right thing when he starts swiping the pictures again, finding a whole series of Christmas and Thanksgiving photos, and he starts telling her a few stories about his family. The gingerbread house they used to build. The Christmas gospels in front of the local church on Christmas Eve. The Black Friday shopping tour with his mum. The typical Dutch cookies he baked  with his dad every year for Thanksgiving. The family trip to the ice rink. And his favourite part, the snowball fight after the first snow.

She listens to every story carefully, cherishing it as if she’d lived it herself. She will recall his words, later on, once she’s alone, and she will grieve all the little things she’s missed, feeling a pang of regret because she wasn’t there with him, she hasn’t watched him grow up. But right now, she’s too busy memorising the texture of his hair under her hand, his accent, the shape of his fingers and nails swiping the pictures on the phone. She’s busy focusing on the fact that right now William’s here, in her arms, he’s talking to her and letting her stroke his hair, something she never thought would happen ever again. She needs to memorise every single detail of him, to learn as much as she can about him, in case this is the last time she sees him for fourteen more years.

She has all the time in the world to think about what she missed.

When the family series is over and his friends appear again on the screen, he looks up at her. “Do you have any pictures? I mean, of me… of us?”

“I do actually… wait a second, I’ll get them.”

A feeling of cold and void hits her as she has to leave their warm embrace to get a small shoes box in her closet.

After giving William up, she burnt all the pictures she had of him, except the one in her desk drawer, and donated all the clothes to a local charity, for safety reasons. Then she begged her mum to do the same, but Scully found out last weekend that Maggie had kept a few pictures.

When she’s back in her bedroom with the box, he’s with Daggoo, who must have been woken up by the noise. She sits back in bed, repressing a disappointed sigh as she realises that William isn’t going to lay his head on her shoulder again.

In the first picture, she’s pregnant, in her old apartment. Then there’s one of William playing during bath time.

He giggles. “Wait.”

He grabs his phone and takes a picture of the old photo of himself.

“You can have the original if you like it,” she suggests.

He shrugs. “I wanted it on the phone. It works for a good throwback Thursday.”

He saves the pic, then looks up at Scully. “Are you on Instagram?”

“No,” she replies, shaking her head, “only Facebook.”

William makes a disappointed face. “Instagram’s cooler… Snapchat too. You post pics and stuff… you should get them… so that, you know, we can follow each other.”

Scully swears she has tears in her eyes again, and this time, they’re joyful tears, as her heart swells in her chest. Her son, whom she’s met again after fourteen years, has just hinted at the fact that he may want to keep in touch with her.

Albeit sad and full of concerns, this day’s turning out to be a great one.

“I’ll download them tomorrow,” she only says, before showing him other pictures, trying to get her emotions back under control.

In one, his first Halloween, he’s dressed up as a pumpkin. Maggie made the costume, she tells him. Then there are about ten pictures of his Christening, with all the family, a lot of just him and Scully.

“I’m afraid that’s it,” she tells him, “it was part of the plan to keep you as safe as possible.”

“Is it true that I had superpowers? Monica told me that I could move stuff with my mind,” he says.

She tells him his story in detail, how his superpowers were dangerous, how he was kidnapped once and she was lucky to find him. She tells him why Mulder is in none of the pictures.

“That’s him, right?” William asks then, pointing at the photo on Scully’s nightstand.

She nods, handing him the frame, watching as he studies it intently.

“Do you think I can meet him tomorrow?” he asks, yawning. He’s visibly tired, and she more than him.

“We put him in a coma to allow his body to rest before the transplant, but you can meet him if you want to.”

He nods.

They say goodnight after that. She wishes for a moment that she could kiss his forehead, or tuck him in, but she doesn’t dare.

Standing in the doorway, she calls Daggoo to follow her into the living room. He only barks once but doesn’t move from the bed.

“Can he stay here?” William asks, scratching Daggoo’s ears.

She nods, wishing she could take a picture of her boy and her dog together, as she closes the door.

**

When Scully’s alarm goes off the morning after, her very first thought is that everything was yet another dream, beautifully detailed, but simply not real, like the dreams she’s had regularly for fourteen years. Then after a few seconds, she hears the toilet flush and realises she really slept on the couch. This time, it wasn’t a dream.

William meets Mulder briefly before the transplant, just to say hi. She watches the interaction from outside, wondering what is going on in William’s head, and wishing Mulder was awake to meet his son.

The procedure starts at 10 am. Nothing goes wrong, but she knows it will take a while to see whether it worked or not.

She has lunch with William before Monica comes with the helicopter to take him back to Wyoming. Scully hands him her phone, telling him to download whatever he wants. In less than twenty minutes, will.vdk and danakscully are following each other on every possible platform. Then she befriends him on Facebook, although he rolls his eyes saying that Facebook is uncool.

To initiate her to Instagram, they take a selfie, and he shows her how to use the filters and upload it. She couldn’t care less about the social networks, she’s just happy that they have a picture together, and while William’s using the restroom, she makes sure it ends up on both her lock screen and home screen.

Scully hugs her son one last time when the helicopter arrives, she tells him to be careful, and that she will miss him.

“Can I visit you guys, once Fox is feeling better?” he asks.

This time, a tear of joy manages to break the barrier of her eyes. “You can visit anytime you want, for as long as you want.”

**xx**

That evening, Mulder finally wakes up. His immune system is still non-existent, so she’s wearing mask, gloves, and a surgical scrub, but nothing in the world can prevent her from hugging him and resting her head on his shoulder.

“I love you… I love you…” she whispers over and over again.

He’s weak, but he manages to wrap his arms around her, pulling her closer. She leans her forehead on his cheek, and repeatedly blinks her eyes, so that he can feel the fluttering of her eyelashes on his skin. It’s the closest thing to a kiss she can think of. He turns his head slightly and brushes his dry lips against her forehead.

She rests her head on his shoulder again, and stays there until he drifts off to sleep.

**

“Are you waiting for someone, Agent Mulder?” she asks, stepping inside his hospital room, the white mask still covering her face.

He’s sitting on his bed, with his back against the pillow and his laptop on his knees. He grins. “Look who’s here, our world saviour, Dr Dana Scully!”

She walks towards him and wraps her arms around him.

“Are you taking me home?” he asks with a hopeful look in his eyes.

She sighs. “Not yet… your blood cell count is still too low.”

He pouts a little. He can’t wait to get out of this germ-free room and go home. But at least now Scully’s here with him.

The day after his transplant, she had to leave to travel around the country to distribute the vaccine and talk to selected doctors about it, just to be prepared in the event of new cases. The epidemics made a lot of victims, especially in the rural States where it took longer to deliver the vaccine, but it wasn’t the apocalyptic disaster it looked like in the beginning. Overall, most people were saved, reducing the real victims to a small percentage.

She had to stay away from Mulder almost ten days, but she called him every night to check on his progress, sighing in relief every time he picked up the phone and told her he was doing well.

“You still have to tell me everything about William,” he says.

And she does, after she sits down next to him, and his head is on her shoulder. She talks about William’s life, the things he told her, how they definitely got off on the wrong foot but ended up bonding. She shows Mulder some photos of William from his Instagram page, and that selfie they took during lunch.

Mulder looks up at her. Although her mouth is hidden, her eyes are sparkling with the most beautiful smile he’s ever seen. “I can’t remember the last time I’ve seen you so happy,” he whispers.

“I just… I still can’t believe that I found him… that he’s okay… that we get along,” she says.

He slides upwards, until his face is next to hers, and he nuzzles her cheek. “I wish I’d met him too.”

“Let’s send him a snap,” she proposes.

After explaining Mulder what a snap is, they take a selfie and she types ‘look who’s feeling better’ as a caption, before sending it.

Mulder snuggles more into her, his arms possessively wrapped around her waist. “Can I kiss you?”

She shakes her head. “You’re under immunosuppressant… it’s not safe. There’s a reason I’m wearing this mask.”

He knew that already, he just wanted confirmation.

A buzz from her phone catches their attention just a few seconds later.

“William replied,” she says, holding her phone so that both of them can see.

As she opens it, she immediately realises it’s a short video. William’s face appears on the screen. He seems to be on a bus, and he has big green headphones covering his ears.

_“Hey Fox, what’s up?”_

Then, the screen turns black, before automatically going back to the main chat page.

Mulder still stares at the phone, his eyes glistening with tears of wonder, as he finally understands why Scully’s so happy.

“Was that… was that our kid?” he asks, unable to swallow the unexpected lump in his throat.

She glances at him, easily reading the emotions clouding his mind and eyes. They’re the same she herself felt when she first saw him step down from the helicopter, and that she somehow still feels every time he texts her.

“Yes, that’s him,” she replies.

“We made him, together, you and me, we made him.”

“Yes we did.”

As her words sink down on him, Mulder can’t believe his son is not a memory frozen in time anymore, one of a two-day-old baby fuzzing in his arms as he lulled him to sleep. William is real now, he has a face and a voice, and they might even meet one day.

It’s a sudden awareness that makes him grin and almost burst into giggles.

“I still think he looks a lot like Skinner,” he says.

She laughs.

**

Finally after five weeks of hospital, he’s allowed to go home. They choose her apartment for the moment, because it’s closer to the hospital in case of emergencies. He knows he’ll have to undergo daily checks for the 100 days following the transplant, wear a mask in public, and be extra careful should he notice any unusual symptom, but mainly, he’s happy he won’t be confined in a hospital room anymore.

Overall he feels good. He has moments in which he’s so tired he can barely stand, but otherwise he’s doing fine. Mentally, he has good days and bad days, but Scully knows it’s completely normal after such a trauma.

She draws him a hot bath once they get home, watches him as he undresses and helps him step inside the tub, as he lays his body down in the bubbly water.

“I forgot how good this felt,” he whispers, resting his head back on the edge of the tub.

She runs a hand through his hair. Considered his age, she’s surprised his hair didn’t fall off. “Do you want company in there?”

He glances at her quickly before lowering his eyes. “I don’t… I don’t think I can handle a lot of physical activity right now.”

“We don’t have to do anything you don’t feel ready to do.”

A thankful smile makes its way on his face. “Then be my guest.”

She removes her clothes, feeling his eyes on her as she gradually bares her body in front of him. She steps inside the tub, sitting behind him. He slides down until his head is resting on her chest.

“Much better,” he says with a smirk.

Her arms wrap around him and her fingers trace the edges of the scars left on his chest by the virus, her hands rubbing in a slow massage, his chest hair scratching her palm. He tries not to focus on the soothing sensation, on the happiness of being finally home with her, and not worry about the fact that she’s naked, her breasts are pressed against his back, and he feels absolutely nothing. Not even a hint of erection.

“It’s normal,” she whispers to his ear, as if she could read his mind, “a part of your body was chemically destroyed and replaced… your testosterone level was swinging a lot in the last couple of weeks. It takes a while to adjust.”

She kisses his temple, softly and at the same time lingering there, to make sure he feels all her love. She’s not going anywhere this time. Her mouth travels lower, reaching his cheek, as he turns to meet her.

And suddenly, their lips meet, tentatively at first, then gradually increasing the pressure. He’s the first who deepens the kiss even more, exploring her mouth with his tongue in a sensual massage. Her taste, the way her hands cup his nape to hold him close, the friction of their skin together, all these things remind him that he’s alive, once again, and that he’s desperately in love with this incredible woman.

“What would I do without you?” he asks, his lips still moving on hers.

“You would have died twenty years ago,” she jokes, and she kisses him again.

**

The following day he feels better, less weak. They even go for a walk with Daggoo. That night, he can’t even wait to get in bed that he’s already kissing her. She’s brushing her teeth, and her hair is tied up in a messy bun that leaves her neck exposed.

He places a tiny, tentative kiss where her neck meets her shoulder, just to test her reaction. She smiles at him in the mirror, but doesn’t say anything. He repeats his action, brushing his lips against her sensitive skin all the way up to her ear, and smirks when he notices the goosebumps appearing on her exposed arm.

He lets her go when she bends over to spit in the sink and rinse her mouth with some water, but then he immediately hugs her again, his chest pressing against her back.

“Is it too early?” he asks.

“No, but I need you to be sure you want it.”

“I do… I want it. I want you, I want to-“

She cuts him off by spinning around in his arms and pressing her lips on his. It’s immediately a deep kiss, a loving one, a game of teeth and tongues, before he takes her hands and leads her to their bed.

Every fibre of her being wants to be his tonight, to feel him inside her, to be one with him again. They undresses each other slowly, rediscovering those bodies they used to know as well as their own. They remember the first times they made love, how good they looked. Her breasts were firm and supple, his muscles were carved in marble. Now, more than ten years later, there’s a lot more sagging in both of them, but growing old together is a privilege they wouldn’t trade for anything else.

She touches him with a passion that makes his knees wobble. She remembers the spots that make him whimper and those that make him groan. His hands work on her too, on her hips, on her thighs, squeezing her buttocks, as he kisses her neck and chest with reverence.

“You’re so beautiful, Scully,” he whispers before closing his mouth around her erect nipple, and she gasps, softly, almost afraid to break the spell, arching her back into his devoted mouth.

How he managed to live without hearing those sounds, he can’t say.

He kisses his way from one breast to the other, and then down her belly, nuzzling and biting softly, but she stops him before he can reach his goal.

“No, wait.”

He looks up. “You don’t want me to…?”

“No…” she breathes, her cheeks flushed with desire, “I need you inside me. Now.”

It’s an offer he just can’t refuse. She rolls him under her, straddling his hips, and their feral lips meet again. She moans in his mouth when his fingers sneak between them and find her wet centre, gently circling her clit, making sure she’s as ready for him as he is for her.

“We need a condom… first drawer,” she breathes between kisses, removing his hand from her swollen flesh.

“When did you get condoms?”

She smirks. “Last week… when I learnt you’d be home soon.”

He hands her a condom and she rolls him slowly down his throbbing cock, before guiding it to her entrance.

They’re both breathless when he’s finally buried inside her, where he belongs. Her hips undulate on him as they find their rhythm again, a slow, perfect pace, and he pulls her down against him to kiss her for all he’s worth.

When the passion takes over and she can feel her orgasm build in her core, she pulls up and speeds up her movements, and he meets every one of them, thrusting into her, one hand gripping on her hips, and the other kneading her breasts and rolling her nipples between his thumb and forefinger. Her head falls back and her pace becomes irregular when he starts hitting that one spot inside of her, again and again.

He knows her well enough to understand when her orgasm is close, and as much as he wishes this would last forever, his own peak is close too, and he doesn’t think he can hold off. His fingers leave her nipples and reach down to her clit, stroking it until she whimpers his name and her walls clamp down on him. He comes too with two more thrusts, spilling his pleasure inside the condom and welcoming her in his arms as she comes down from her peak.    

They remain in each other’s arms for what feels like hours, kissing and cuddling, and he whispers in her ear how much he missed her and how good it feels to be finally reunited.

“I was wondering… do you still think we need therapy?” he asks her.

“Do you?”

He nods. “Yeah. I liked the idea, I think it would do us good.”

“Then I’m calling tomorrow to book a session.”

They kiss again, as he traces her spine with his fingertips. 

“You know,” he says, “I haven’t been with anyone in these years. Only you.”

She smiles tenderly, and kisses his cheek.

“Have you?” he asks, concerned with the fact that she didn’t agree with him in the first place. This time, she captures his lips with hers, gently sucking on his lower lip, but he soon breaks the kiss.

“You have,” he states, defeated, prompting her to roll away from him. She doesn’t move.

“It was just once, two years ago,” she says, running a hand through his hair, “and before you get all jealous or ask me for the details, you need to know that it was terrible and that you don’t want to hear about it.”

He seems to think about it for a second. “Terrible, huh?”

“Awful, embarrassing.”

Although he _is_ jealous, because he just can’t bear the thought of her with another guy, he’s also just a little curious. An amused smirk appears on his lips. “If it was embarrassing I might want to hear about it.”

Sighing, she rolls away until she’s lying next to him, the duvet covering them both to their chests. She tells him how she decided to download Tinder, one lonely night, after she read an online article about how great it is for casual sex. She was going through some dark days, and she was seeking a new experience, a thrill, anything, just like that time in which she ended up getting a tattoo, but she doesn’t mention this part to Mulder.  Anyway, she accidentally messed up her age range setting and she was matched to this young man, aged 26,cute face.  

“I was a little reluctant at first, because of the age difference, but he seemed very sweet and charming, you know, so I thought ‘fuck it’, men do it all the time! We arranged a meeting for the following evening…” she continues, glancing at Mulder randomly to check his reactions. He looked entertained by her story.

“…I quickly found out that the ‘younger man experience’, as he put it, also entails lack of skills.”

Mulder is giggling already, and she playfully slaps his arm. A second later, she’s giggling too. “He couldn’t find my clit… seriously, he had no clue.”

“Wait, you said he was 26… people can be pretty experienced at 26.”

She blushes a little, and hides her face on his shoulder so that he won’t notice. “After the performance I pretended to have forgotten his age, so I asked him how old he was… and he said, I quote, ‘I’ll be 20 in November’.”

He laughs, pulling her face to him to teasingly kiss her. “Come on, nothing to get sued for… it’s not like he was seventeen. He was nineteen! You’re good.”

She tries to not burst into laughter while shooting him a killer look. “Shut up, Mulder.”

“Hey, since we are in confession mood, I bought a Fleshlight last year,” he says, relieving some of her embarrassment.

“Nice, how is it?”

“Oddly realistic,” he replies, “but not as easy to clean as it’s advertised.”

Her giggles are muffled by his lips on hers, and his tongue sensually exploring her mouth. He realises that if he were healthy and maybe a bit younger, probably at this point he would be ready to go again. Instead he still needs some time.

“Speaking of vaginas,” she whispers, interrupting the kiss, “you still want to go down on me?”

His eyes darken with lust, and envy because she’s ready to go again already. “Now?”

“Yes.”

“I’m on my way.”

He kisses away her mischievous smirk, and then licks his way down her body, stopping to suckle on her nipples and enjoy her satisfied sighs.

“Wait… wait a second,” she says. She reaches her second drawer, pulls out a red box and hands him a dental dam.

He wiggles his eyebrows. “You want to play dentist?”

She chuckles, while he positions the latex between her thighs.

Before making her come, he drives her crazy pretending he can’t find her clit.

**

“Dana, Fox, I’ll be using your first names if it’s okay with you, and I would like you to use mine. It helps create an atmosphere of open communication,” the therapist, Dr Mills, tells them.

Sitting on a blue couch across from her, they both nod.

“Before we start, I need to collect some general information on your relationship… you can think of it as a timeline, is that okay?”

They nod again.

“Great. Let’s start from the beginning, when did you meet?”

They look at each other to decide who’s going to speak. Scully starts. “We met 23 years ago… in 1993… we were assigned to work together.”

“Were you romantically involved from the beginning?” Dr Mills asks.

Mulder has to bite back a laughter. “No,” he says, “at first we were work partners…”

“Friends,” intervenes Scully.

“Yes, friends,” Mulder agrees, “good friends.”

Dr Mills nods, writing down their answers. “Do you still work together?”

“Yes,” they both say.

“Although I’m not actually working at the moment,” Mulder adds, “still recovering.”

“When did you become romantically involved?”

“It took a while,” Mulder replies, “we got together in… uhm, it was 2000, wasn’t it?”

“Yes, 2000,” Scully confirms, “we were together from 2000 to 2013. And then we got back together again about two months ago.”

“Okay, so your relationship ended in 2013 after thirteen years. Was it a joint decision to split up?” Dr Mills ask, still noting down the information.

“No, it was my choice, I left,” Scully says.

The therapist nods. “Okay… we will deeply explore the reasons behind Dana’s choice during our sessions, but first I have a few more questions for you. Did you ever get married?”

They both shake their heads, and Mulder voices a “no”.

“What about your living arrangements?”

“We bought a house together in 2002, and lived there together until Dana left,” Mulder explains, “I kept living there alone while she rented an apartment during our separation.”

“We’re living together in my apartment at the moment, it’s closer to the hospital,” Scully adds, “but we’ll probably move back to our house once he’s fully recovered.”

Dr Mills nods. “That’s good. Do you have children?”

“Uhm,” Scully starts, “actually, we-“

“Yes, we do,” Mulder interrupts her, “we have a son, William. He’s fif- well, almost fifteen.”

Scully can’t help smiling at the pride and awe in Mulder’s voice. _And he hasn’t even met him yet._

The therapist glances at her, a bit confused. “Dana, were you going to say something?”

“Uhm, William doesn’t live with us… it’s complicated,” Scully replies.

Dr Mills nods, a bit confused. “Okay, we’ll get back to this later. Now, how is your sex life? Would you say you’re satisfied with it?”

They glance at each other.

“I, uhm,” Mulder starts, “I… I’ve been experiencing some… some problems…”

“Erectile dysfunction,” Scully says as the doctor in her takes over, “which is a known side effect of stem cells transplants… he has good days and bad days.”

Mulder blushes violently, mentally thanking the surgical mask for partially covering it.

“There’s nothing to be embarrassed about, Fox,” Dr Mills says, as Scully’s hand reaches his on the couch and squeezes it. They talked about it a lot at home. He knows it’s very likely temporary, and she keeps repeating him that the good days are _very_ good, but his male ego has a hard time accepting it.

Dr Mills glances at her notes one last time. “Okay, one last questions before we start: why did you decide to come here?”

“We made some mistakes, in our past,” he says.

“A lot of mistakes,” she adds, “but we don’t want to repeat them.”

They squeeze hands again.

Dr Mills gives them a warm smile. “I think it’s a great place to start.”

**xx**

She’s home from work unusually early on a Thursday evening. Mulder’s sitting on the couch with Daggoo, watching some TV.

“You’re home early,” he states, turning off the TV. As he looks at her, he realises there’s something going on. She’s still standing on the doorway,  biting her lower lip in a vain attempt at hiding a smile. Daggoo wiggles his tail and runs towards her, or at least that’s what Mulder thought. Instead, the dog crosses the threshold into the hallway, and she doesn’t seem to mind.

“S-Scully, Daggoo just…”

“I have a surprise for you,” she just says, ignoring his remark.

“A surprise, huh?”

“Well, two actually.”

His grin grows wider.

“First,” she begins, “Skinner said you can go back to work next week. No field trips of course, but you can sit in your office and follow cases from there.”

“Oh thank God!” he exclaims. It’s been three months from his transplant, and roughly two since he left the hospital, and he’s never been more bored in his life. He can’t go to crowded places – no malls, no supermarkets, nothing. He can’t do too much physical exercise, just the daily walk with Daggoo. He can only watch TV or his laptop, and he was really looking forward to going back to work. “Whatever the next surprise is, Scully, I doubt it can beat this one.”

In that moment, she steps away from the door, and William makes his entrance carrying Daggoo in his arms.

“Hi,” he says shyly.

Mulder swears his heart has stopped.

“He’s staying with us until Tuesday,” Scully says, proudly glancing at her boy.

“My aunt’s birthday present,” William adds.

Mulder heard their words but he’s not sure they fully registered in his brain. Today is the 19th of May, he thinks, tomorrow is William’s birthday. He stares at his son, studying that boy that looks so much like the woman he loves, the miracle of their love that was eventually returned to them. He stands up and reaches out to his son to shake his hand, as Daggoo jumps out of William’s embrace and runs to the kitchen.

“It’s nice to meet you, Fox,” he says.

Mulder has mentally prepared for this moment since he first watched that short video, and in spite of this he doesn’t know what to say, so he blurts out the first thing he can think of.

“Hi William… uh, thank you for saving my life.”

The boy shrugs. “No biggie.”

They both shove their hands in their pockets, not quite sure what to do next. Scully senses the hesitation and immediately intervenes.

“So, who’s hungry?” she asks.

They have dinner together, and Mulder thinks he should have expected this. Scully bought a bed last week, to put it in her office, the second room of the apartment, saying she would use it as a couch, or ‘in case we have guests’.

He attentively watches their interactions, their complicity, the way they talk to each other as if they’d known each other forever. They have, sort of, he thinks. They alternate jokes and serious talk. William hugs her from behind once, making fun of her because without her heels, he’s taller than her. Some time later, she grabs his face and presses  a kiss on top of his head, as if it was the most normal thing in the world.

Mulder watches, mostly. When he talks to William, it’s nothing but questions and short answers.

Later that night, in bed, she reassures Mulder that things weren’t good between her and William too at the very beginning, and that he doesn’t have to worry. She explains that the kind of relationship she has now with William hasn’t just appeared out of nowhere, it’s the result of months of hard work. She reminds Mulder of all the TV series she’s been picking up so that they have more topics in common, of all the YouTube videos of athletics she watched so that she understands how everything works, all the Buzzfeed quizzes she had to take just because he sent her the link. She tiptoed in his life as a friend, not as a mother figure.

“When did you have the confirmation you were doing the right thing?” Mulder asks.

She smiles. “The C-, remember?”

William called her one afternoon after he got a C- in a math test for which he thought he studied hard enough to get the usual A. He was sad and disappointed, and Scully was the first person he called while walking home from school. She knew then, that they were going in the right direction. As a matter of fact, they only grew closer after that episode.

Mulder thanks her, hoping in his heart that soon he’ll be able to hug his son too without uneasiness.

Then she kisses him softly, brushing her lips on his. She’s happy. She knows it’s temporary, she knows William doesn’t actually live with them, but she’s determined to enjoy the feeling until it lasts. She kisses Mulder more deeply, roaming his chest with her hands, before lowering her mouth to his neck.

That’s when he stops her.

“Scully, no, wait…” he whispers.

“What?” she asks, lifting her face off his neck.

“Not tonight…” he replies.

She’s a little disappointed, but doesn’t question him further. Lately his good days have been way more frequent than his bad days, but he’s still not fully himself yet. However, he continues.

“…William’s in the next room!”

At this point, she laughs. “And?”

“And we can’t have sex with him sleeping in the next room!”

She thinks he’s joking at first, but as he keeps talking she understands he’s not. “What if he hears us? Or what if he needs something and comes in?!”

No matter how much she tells him that they’ll be silent, and that there’s no reason why he should come in (“he’s not a toddler, he’s fifteen!”), and that parents obviously have sex with their children in the house all the time, she still can’t get him to change his mind. He’s a little freaked out, and she finds it adorable, though a little sexually frustrating. She eventually respects his paranoia and kisses him goodnight with an amused smirk on her lips.

The three of them spend a nice weekend together. They go sightseeing in Washington, they watch movies, they play games. William bakes his ‘traditional Cheesecake A La William’, as he calls it, and Scully has to admit it’s really delicious.

It’s the first birthday Mulder and Scully spend with their own son, and the happiness is so overwhelming that they can’t even begin to describe it.

The best surprise, however, comes the last evening, right when they’re getting ready to say goodbye. William approaches them, before dinner, tells them he has something to ask. He fidgets with his hands and his cheeks are red as rubies.

He tells them his friend Sam is currently staying at a family friend’s, but that he’ll be moving to DC at the end of the school year to live with his father, after his mother’s death during the epidemics.

William stops, his eyes glued to the table, hoping he doesn’t need to speak any further. Scully thinks she understood what he wanted to ask, but she knows it would be too good to be true. He needs to say the words.

“Will?” she prompts him softly.

He bites his nails. “I mean… I do love my aunt, she’s okay… but when Sam leaves, I… uhm, I mean, if I lived here, I could still hang out with him... he’s my best friend… and I would live with you guys… you’re very cool, I would… I would like to live here with you.”

Mulder is in shock, his mouth hanging open, his eyes jarred. Scully is shocked too, but she manages to speak. “You… you want to live here with us?” she asks, for confirmation. She thinks this is a dream and she’s going to wake up soon.

“Uhm… yes… if it’s okay with you guys.”

His blue eyes shift quickly between Mulder and Scully, studying their reaction, trying to elicit something out of them, any kind of feedback. However, they’re both still, silent, utterly incredulous.

“You-you don’t have to say anything now,” William continues tentatively, “I know it would be a huge change… that was just an idea, you know… you can say no…”

“Will, we…” Scully starts.

“I mean, I know I’m not very tidy… but-but I can work on that!” William says. “And I bake cakes… and my mum taught me how to use a washing machine, so I can do that too, and…”

He’s interrupted by Mulder’s loud laughter. “You don’t need to sell yourself, Will!”

Scully’s lips are crooked in a wide grin, her eyes wet with tears. “This is your home too,” she says, “of course you can live here if you want to.”

“I can?” William asks, as if he couldn’t believe it. The cheerful “Yeah” he gets as an answer erases his doubts in a second.

“What does your aunt say about this?” Scully asks. She desperately wants to reach her son and squeeze him in a tight hug, but she needs to be sure this isn’t just a teenager dream.

“She said she wants to talk to you to discuss this… but that she understands, and that she’s happy if I’m happy, whatever I choose.”

As they both go hug their son, Mulder and Scully know they’ll probably pinpoint this day as the best of their lives.

They’re so happy that, that same night, she even manages to seduce Mulder. They make love in silence, half dressed, just in case. He’s as alert as an owl, he stiffens every single time he hears the faintest sound. With the continuous distraction, it takes ages for him to come, but she tries to look at the bright side. At least she had time to come twice.

“You made the right call,” he whispers afterwards, as they lie next to each other.

“What?”

“I don’t… I don’t think I’ve ever said this, but giving William up was the right thing to do. You made the right call.”

Her lips curl up in a smile. She spent years regretting her decision every single day, wishing she could go back and keep him with her instead of driving him to the adoption agency. She would hate herself at times, for treating him like trash.

“I know,” she whispers. Now that she met him, she knows for sure that giving him up was probably the best choice she’s ever made. He spent his childhood free from every danger, like every child should be. He had the chance to discover his passions and talents, and to nurture them. He grew up safe, happy, healthy, loved, exactly what she’d wanted for him all along.

As much as she would have liked to watch him grow, she knows she couldn’t have provided any of it. And now, if everything goes as planned, they’ll finally get to be a family.

It was all in God’s plan, she thinks.

“He’s amazing,” Mulder says.

“He is, isn’t he?” she agrees.

They kiss each other goodnight.

**

The summer sky is tear, blue, not even a cloud in sight. Scully’s standing on the porch, Mulder’s hand squeezing hers. Both their hearts are hammering against their chests.

The day has finally come. William is arriving, and he won’t be leaving any time soon. From today on, he will be living with them.

After thorough thinking, they both resigned from the X-files, deciding they were done risking their lives on a daily basis. Mulder accepted a teaching job at Quantico, although he still collaborates with agents Einstein and Miller when they need help solving cases.

Scully resumed her career in the medical field. After she created the vaccine, hospitals all over the country fought to have her working for them, but she eventually returned to her old hospital in DC. It was also the one offering the highest salary.

During couples therapy they talked a lot about this new, long-awaited shift in their lives.

They know being parents of a teenager isn’t always going to be easy, and that some legal technicalities still need to be sorted out, but they’re ready, for everything.

The excitement they’re both feeling is even taking over the sad awareness of what they’ve lost. They’ll always know what could have been, but the joy of what is going to be is so overwhelming that everything else just doesn’t really matter. 

They’re ready to be a family of three.

A few minutes later, a black car approaches their house. William waves at them from the passenger’s seat.

They grin. 

_The End_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Right sooo just so you know, in what I'd originally written, William ended up staying in Wyoming with his aunt. But then I thought that even if we ever get a s11, I'm pretty sure we won't have a true happy ending, so I decided Mulder and Scully deserved to be a family with their son at least in my story.


End file.
